


Baiatul Pierdut (The Lost Boy)

by minchout



Series: Baiatul Pierdut [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-09 11:11:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 47,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minchout/pseuds/minchout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the warrior king from the North decides to take Jared as his husband, Jared's world is upended. However, he quickly realizes that being captured by a handsome king is really the least of his problems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baiatul Pierdut (The Lost Boy)

When word of the warrior king’s planned invasion reached his village, Jared begged his father to let him go to battle with the other men. He was practiced with a sword, and even better close range with the hunting knife he’d been given when he’d come of age finally, after fifteen summers, just the year before. But his father had said no, again and again. 

“Your time will come, my boy. You have the spirit of a warrior, and your body will surely grow strong. But you are too young yet.”

A week of hard battle changes things, however, and if the women and children of Jared’s village are to survive, sacrifices must be made. The warrior king’s tribute must be paid, and what the warrior king wanted was Jared, only son of the highest village elder. 

Jared knelt in the dirt, the chalk-white stone of the Southern dust fields digging into the soft skin of his knees, his father’s hand pressed against the nape of his neck, holding his head down, making a show of Jared’s submission. Jared clenched his hand into a fist against his leg. Had his father’s grip on his neck not been so tight, Jared would have had this warrior king’s entrails in the dirt at his feet in the space of a breath. 

At his approach, the king’s shadow stretched a black swathe in the dirt that ended at Jared’s knee as if the two were already connected, as if Jared were already leashed. Jared tried to stand; his father held him down. 

“This is him?” the warrior king said, his voice graveled and worn. Jared wished he could see the man.

“Yes,” Jared’s father said. “Take him and leave us in peace. You have what you want.” 

“You ask a lot of me, given your transgressions.”

“I’m giving you my only son.” Jared’s father squeezed his neck once, hard enough to bruise. 

The warrior king snorted at that, muttered something in the language of the North. He stepped closer, his shadow obscuring Jared’s vision until all Jared saw was the black dirt and two worn and laced leather boots almost close enough to touch. The warrior king touched his fingers to Jared’s chin, and Jared drew in a breath. 

“Head up, boy,” the king said. 

Jared felt his father loosen his hold. He tilted his head up and up to meet the eyes of the king. 

The man who stood above him had a grave face with eyes lined at the corners, skin freckled by the sun, and a reddish growth of beard covering his cheeks. He wore a circlet crown atop short hair which curled slightly at the temples, a stark contrast to Jared’s, whose hair was grown almost to his shoulders, ragged and dirty. The king had a presence about him. Everything seemed grand—the width of his shoulders, his rough hands, the sword sheathed at his side. 

The king looked down at Jared, brushed a thumb across the mark beside his nose. Jared fought the blush he knew was rising in his cheeks at the thought of being examined so closely and possibly found wanting, but the king seemed satisfied.

“You are untouched?” he asked Jared.

“No man has had him,” Jared’s father answered. “We don’t hold with that filth here.”

The look the king gave him in return was one that threatened fields of blood and flame, and Jared felt his father’s hand tighten. Jared took the men’s distraction as the blessing it was and launched himself at the king. He hit him squarely in the abdomen and took him to the ground. Just as he got hold of the dagger on the king’s belt, he felt himself flipped onto his back in the dirt.

The king pinned his wrists above his head and laughed at Jared, their bodies pressed together. Jared tried to squirm free but stilled as the pressure on his wrists increased. 

“There’s a good boy,” the king said. He pressed his face into Jared’s neck, as if he were scenting him, rolled his hips so their crotches met. At the feel of the hardness there, Jared tried to buck the king off and only succeeded in making him laugh again. “Oh, you’re going to be fun,” he said. 

“Piss off,” Jared said. 

The king laughed and hauled a struggling Jared onto his feet. He had Jared turned around and his hands bound with a leather strap behind his back before he could protest, then he turned Jared until they were facing each other again. 

Jared had grown some this year and was the same height as the man, though not as broad. Big enough to look the king in the eye, though, so he did, and said, “You take me to your bed, I’ll kill you in your sleep.”

The king brushed Jared’s hair from his face, cradled the back of his skull in one big hand, and pulled him in to whisper in his ear. “It wouldn’t be a bad way to go, boy, after having fucked a pretty thing like you.”

Jared tried to pull away, but the king held him firm. He stepped toward Jared once then twice, forcing Jared to move backwards with him toward the horse at his back. The king grabbed Jared beneath the arms and lifted him with a grunt to sit side saddle on the horse. Jared felt dizzy from the movement, an alarming vertigo and moment of panic when he realized he couldn’t steady himself with his bound hands, but then the king was on the horse behind him, settling Jared against his chest and wrapping his arms around Jared to grab the reins. 

***

Jared counted seventeen days before the king and his men reached the citadel. They’d battled and won another village in that time, lost men, gained slaves and whores. But after that first day, that horse ride with Jared held firm against the king’s chest and mourning the loss of his home and family, he hadn’t again seen the king. He’d been handed over to the whores to be cared for, and Jared may have never bedded a woman, but he knew what whores did, had seen the painted women who lived on the edges of his village and who the elders visited at night all the while telling their sons to stay away, and he thought it couldn’t be a good sign that he was kept with them rather than with the other slaves. 

Jared watched the women as they gathered water from the river the men were following toward the citadel. The women boiled it, bathed themselves, then dabbed scented oils where the blood pulsed warm beneath their skin. The smells in the women’s tent made him dizzy with want, rock hard beneath his tunic, which was still dirty from being tumbled through the dirt by the king—and if that didn’t remind him of the reason why he was here, why he was kept with the whores…Jared tried not to imagine it, but with the constant ache for home and family and for the women who surrounded him, he couldn’t help but wonder when the king would come to him, use him the way the other men used the women, put him on his knees for more than a show of submission. 

The whores were enamored of Jared. They’d never seen hair the length of his on a man, and they liked to brush it for him, braid it. They would touch his cheeks and his lips, kiss him softly in ways that, for them, had nothing to do with sex but made Jared blush and turn his face away. They talked to him in a strange language that Jared knew was the warrior king’s native language, the language of the North, but Jared couldn’t respond. He picked up a few words though: the word for _pretty_ , the word for _fucking_ , the word for _whore_. 

He thought of running. Though there were watchmen who guarded the men while at rest, the nights this time of year were deep and black, the moon and stars cloaked behind thick clouds that whited out the sky during the day. He could slip out unnoticed. But there was nowhere to run. It was either the forest to the East or a river to cross; to go South and home wasn’t an option.

When they reached the capital, Jared barely had time to glance at the city around him before he was taken by guards to a cell deep within the citadel. There was a bed, though, and a wash basin already filled with warm water as if it’d been prepared for him, and Jared took off his tunic and scrubbed at his face and neck and chest before collapsing onto the straw-stuffed mattress. 

After a time, when it became obvious that sleep was still a far off thing, Jared looked down at himself, examined his chest and arms. He wondered what the king could possibly see in him, just a boy and thin like one of the pole beans that grew on vines in his mother’s garden. He felt so foolish now for ever thinking he could have fought when the men invaded his village. He wondered if the king would keep him like this forever, thin and pretty. He was tan now from the sun that blessed his section of the world, but he wondered if the king would like that or if he’d want him changed, kept wan and pale. He’d heard stories of worse. Of boys who lost parts of themselves, who were never truly allowed to become men. He’d heard it was common for men in the North to keep their slaves that way.

A guard came for Jared hours later, and Jared blinked into the light of the guard’s torch. He moved to pull his tunic on, but the guard stopped him.

“You’ll have no need of that,” he said.

“Am I to walk through the castle half naked?” Jared said.

“Put it on, then, if it comforts you,” the guard said. “But I can promise you, those of us who live in the castle will see more than your chest and skinny legs if the king wishes it.”

Jared put the shirt on. He pushed his hair back from his face. “Well?” he said, defiant.

“Come on, then, boy,” the guard said. 

Jared watched the guard carefully as they walked the stone halls. He could just barely make out his features—beard with more grey than black, deep lines around his eyes that showed as shadows marring his sad face in the dim light of the torch. 

“I’m Jeffrey,” the guard said, when he caught Jared looking. “The King’s advisor. If you need anything…” He cleared his throat. “Well,” he said. “You shouldn’t want for anything here.”

“Except my freedom,” Jared said.

Jeffrey stopped at a door. “Yes,” he said. “Except for that, perhaps.” He knocked twice on the door, then pushed it open. “Good luck, boy,” he said. He pushed Jared gently through then closed the door behind him.

Jared didn’t know what to do with himself. He felt suddenly gangly and awkward, too long limbs, and he folded his hands behind his back before peering about the room. It was stuffed with rustic, comfortable looking furniture—a bed bigger than Jared had ever seen covered with what looked like a bear’s pelt, arm chairs next to a fire burning in a grate. It was, however, notably missing one warrior king. 

Jared walked to the bed and ran his hand through the fur covering. They didn’t have such things in his village. They had no need of them. It was warm constantly there, and Jared was reminded that this was one more thing he would miss. It was winter here, and he had no one to help him weather it. 

“That was my father’s kill.”

Jared turned toward the voice. The king was there, looking past Jared to the bed.

“We had a particularly rough winter when I was a child,” he said. “The bears are sacred here. We don’t kill them if we can avoid it, but that winter my father had no choice. The bears provided meat and warmth for the people when we had nothing else. It’s one more reason to worship them.”

“I’ve never seen a bear,” Jared said. “I’ve heard of them, but…” 

He stopped himself before he began to ramble. He fidgeted next to the bed, attempting to watch the king without seeming to do so. Here, in his bedroom, the king didn’t seem so grand as he had when Jared had kneeled before him. He wore a linen shirt, padded for warmth, and loose linen pants. There were wide leather bands at his forearms where he sheathed knives. His feet were bare, and Jared watched as the king curled his toes into the fur covering the stone floor.

“There’s no need to be nervous,” the king said.

“What are you going to do to me?” Jared said. 

The king approached slowly, as if Jared were an animal he was trying not to spook. “Nothing you won’t enjoy,” he said. 

“I find that hard to believe,” Jared said, his breath quickening as the king drew near. 

The king placed a hand on his face, warm palm on Jared’s cheek, rough thumb tracing the skin beneath Jared’s eye. Jared’s eyes closed without his permission. 

“You’re very beautiful,” the king said. “Exotic.” His thumb touched Jared’s eye, just at the corner where the line of it curved upwards. “No wonder the girls liked you so much.”

“I’m not beautiful,” Jared said. “The girls in my village think me ungainly.”

The king chuckled, the sound soft in the quiet of the room, and Jared’s eyes fluttered open. The king’s face was very close to his. He was handsome, Jared couldn’t help but notice. There’d been stories of him in Jared’s village long before the king invaded. The village girls had whispered of the cut of the king’s muscles, of giant-like height, and of eyes the color of precious jewels. With one look, it was said, the king could bring anyone to heel. But Jared saw now that the king was just a man. A man with laughter lines at the corners of eyes that were more the color of forest moss than emeralds. A man no more muscled than the men of Jared’s village, and who was looking at Jared now as if Jared were something precious.

“I did not mean the grasswalkers,” the king said. “It’s obvious they have no knowledge of real beauty. I meant my whores. You are beautiful enough to be one of them.”

Jared pulled his face away from the king’s hand. 

“Ah,” the king said. He grabbed Jared before he could turn fully away, one hand on his shoulder, the other in Jared’s hair, holding him still, his face tilted upwards. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Is that what I am?” Jared whispered. “Am I to be a whore? Something exotic for you to play with?”

The king arched an eyebrow. He stepped back and grabbed the hem of Jared’s tunic, tugged until Jared lifted his arms so he could pull it over his head. Jared felt shaky and exposed standing before the king, practically naked while the king himself was still fully clothed. The king ran his finger along the waist of Jared’s underclothes. 

“Take this off,” the king said. 

“If I say no?” Jared said.

The king gripped Jared’s upper arms and push-walked him to the bed until Jared’s knees buckled and he was forced to sit. 

“You’re mine now,” the king said, his face close enough to Jared’s that Jared could feel the king’s breath against his lips. “You’ll do as I wish.”

He pulled Jared’s underclothes down just far enough to expose Jared’s cock and balls, then he licked a stripe up his palm and dragged his hand down Jared’s cock, which, despite Jared’s fear, was half hard already, curving slightly toward his stomach. The king tugged on the foreskin in a way that made Jared gasp and clench his hands into the fur blanket beneath him. 

“Has anyone ever touched your pretty cock?” the king said. 

Jared shook his head.

“No sweet little village girl’s ever taken you in hand? Made you feel good?”

“No, sire,” Jared said. He licked his lower lip, his breath coming in little gasps he couldn’t control the longer the king touched him.

“Good,” the king said. He gripped Jared’s cock just a shade too hard and Jared whimpered.

“Please,” Jared said.

“I like being the first,” the king said, stroking painfully slow. “I like knowing I’m the only one who’ll ever have this. I like when you beg.”

The king pressed Jared’s cock against his belly, his hand flat against it.

“King,” Jared said. “Please.” He tried to move against the king’s hand.

“Do you want to come, boy?” the king said.

Jared nodded, his entire body trembling, the king supporting all of his weight. Jared gripped the king’s forearm in both hands. He didn’t know if he was trying to push him away or pull him closer.

“Use my hand,” the king said.

Jared flushed all over as he obeyed, too desperately hard to do anything else but hump himself against the king’s hand like a needy dog. The king helped him along some, pressing his cock against his belly. Just as Jared came, the king pressed his lips to Jared’s, licking along the seam before forcing entrance and swallowing Jared’s gasps. Jared had been kissed before, but never like this, as if the king were trying to taste every inch of his mouth, make Jared’s very breath the king’s own. Jared’s head was tilted back as far as possible, and he felt boneless as the king kissed him and stroked him through the aftershocks of his orgasm. 

When the king stopped kissing him, tugging on his bottom lip with his teeth before pulling fully away, Jared realized he’d been laid back against the bed. The king followed him down, lay down beside Jared and rolled him onto his stomach. Jared went without much fuss.

He could feel that the king was hard, the bulge of his cock in his loose pants pressed against Jared’s hip, and Jared began to tense. He’d heard stories of what men did with other men, and he’d thought every story he’d ever been told, every single one that had been whispered shamefully from boy to boy in his village, seemed absolutely impossible. But in this moment, it seemed the king could do anything to him. 

“Shh,” the king said. He dragged his hand down Jared’s back, stroked the base of Jared’s spine with his thumb. “Hush, boy,” the king said. “I’ll take care of you.”

He knelt up behind Jared, spread Jared’s legs and dragged a thumb wet with oil straight across Jared’s hole. Jared gasped and pressed his face into the bed as the king’s thumb pressed inside of him, as he tugged gently against the muscle. It burned, what the king was doing, and the burn grew worse as the king pushed his other thumb in as well. 

“Look at how pretty you open up for me,” the king said. 

He rubbed at Jared’s entrance with his thumb until Jared’s toes were curling and he was half hard again and the burn was almost gone, replaced by a strange pressure. And when the king dragged his thumb across a spot inside of him, Jared keened, his whole body arching until he was raising his ass in the air like he was begging for it. 

The king laughed. “You like that?” he said. He pressed the spot again.

“Please,” Jared said. He squirmed, wanting to get away, wanting the king to get on with whatever he was doing. 

“What do you want, Jared?”

“More,” Jared said. 

He felt the king pull away. He heard a hush of cloth against cloth as the king undressed, and Jared felt as if his body were nothing more than the strings of an instrument, stretched tight and waiting for the king’s fingers. The king did not disappoint.

When he settled on the bed behind Jared, Jared watched from the corner of his eye, though it was difficult from his position—on his knees and forearms, legs spread wide and wanton—to see exactly what the king was doing. He felt it, though, when the king pressed slick fingers into his open hole and tugged, stretching Jared until he moaned. When the king removed his fingers, he replaced them with the head of his cock, and Jared understood what was coming. He tried to scramble away, but the king grabbed his hips and pushed inside. 

Jared cried out. It hurt. Fuck, it hurt, but the king went slowly and dragged across that spot that Jared hadn’t even known existed, and Jared was coming again before the king was even fully seated inside of him. 

The king fucked into Jared—hard, steady thrusts that would have moved Jared up the bed had the king not been holding him still—and when the king came, he helped Jared fall to the bed and lay beside him until his cock was soft enough to slip out. Jared felt dirty, weeks worth of travel and his and the king’s sweat heavy on his skin. His hole felt loose and sloppy, and he could feel the king’s come everywhere, in his bum and on his thighs, already cool and drying against the burn he feared would only hurt worse in the morning. He was exhausted.

The king brushed a hand through Jared’s hair. He moved him further up the bed. 

He disappeared for a moment and returned. “Can you sit up?” he whispered. 

Jared did, propping himself up on shaky arms and blinking at the king. 

“It will get cold in the night,” the king said. “You’ll want these.” He set a pile of clothes on the pillow beside Jared.

Jared nodded.

“Get some sleep, my boy,” the king said. 

He moved from the bed and Jared dressed himself. Then he sunk into the mattress, burrowed in the king’s blankets, and was asleep before the king returned. 

***

When Jared woke, he was alone. The sun was high and flooding through the window, and he squinted into the light. He felt older, as if his body had grown and stretched in the night. He felt as if he’d slept for months.

He’d never felt the king get back into bed, but Jared thought he must have slept. He looked to the sheets beside him for some sign, but they looked smooth, and Jared thought that if he ran his hand over the top of them, they’d be warm only because of the sun. 

The door swung open, and though he was fully dressed, Jared pulled the sheets to his chest as he sat up; then, angry with himself for acting the virginal maiden, he pushed the sheets back again. 

“You’re awake,” the king said. 

“Sire,” Jared said. He got up from the bed as quickly as possible when he saw who it was, though he winced from the burn in his backside and had to stifle a groan. He looked at his bare feet against the floor. He could still feel the king’s come inside of him. 

“I’m sorry,” he said once he’d composed himself. “It must be late. I did not mean to sleep so long.”

The king shrugged. “You needed it,” he said. “Did you sleep well?”

The king looked very young in the daylight, and Jared tried to let himself relax a little.

“Yes, sire,” Jared said. He clasped his hands behind his back.

“When we’re around others, you should call me ‘sire,’ but here, please, just Jensen.” He rubbed at his forehead. “I grow weary of never hearing my name.”

When Jared didn’t respond, the king nodded once. “Come,” he said. “You haven’t bathed, and Sam will not let you into the kitchens if she thinks you dirty.”

Jared nodded and wondered if he was to be put to work in the kitchens. He supposed that would be better than being left to lounge around the king’s bed chamber like the king’s pet. He was hopeless in the kitchen, though. His mother had always told him so. He stopped thoughts of his mother as soon as they rose. He didn’t want to know what she would think of what he’d become.

It’s not that he’d been taught that sex was something to be ashamed of. The men and women of his village embraced their bodies, but sex was supposed to be something sacred, something done only with someone matched to you by the gods’ divine will. Jared’s people were laborers; they lived off the land, growing and hunting what they could, and there was rarely leisure time. The women who made money purely with their bodies, drawing men from their wives’ beds in the night, were barely part of the village, almost exiles, allowed to live on the edges of the village by the good grace of the elders. And the men who slept with other men weren’t even allowed that kindness. They were driven from their homes, their names forgotten, only to be heard again in the hush of the wind through the grasses as Jared walked the plains helping his father work for their dinner.

It was this that Jared thought of as he followed the king into a bathing chamber as big as his family’s home. It was warmly lit with torches, and there was a pool of water set into the stone, quietly steaming. Jared’s body ached with the desire to sink into it, to let the warmth sooth the anxiety and leech some of the dullness from his muscles, ease the burn that grew worse as he walked. 

“Strip,” the king said, interrupting Jared’s thoughts.

“What?” Jared said. 

“You cannot bathe clothed, boy,” the king said. 

“I didn’t intend to,” Jared said.

“Well, then,” the king said. 

“Nor did I intend to bathe with you present,” Jared said.

The king smiled at that. “And I suppose you thought you had a choice in the matter.”

Jared shifted and looked at the water warily. “Then I’d rather not bathe,” he said. 

“I see,” the king said. “I saw all of you last night, Jared. What are you hiding?”

“That was different,” Jared said.

“Would you rather go back to your cell?” the king said. “Live in filth and eat slop with your hands? Because you’ll share neither my bed nor my table in the state you’re in.”

“I have no desire to share either,” Jared said. “If that means a cell, then so be it.”

The king shook his head and walked toward Jared, who flinched away but didn’t get far before the king was grabbing him by the nape of his neck like a misbehaving dog and shoving him toward the water. He unceremoniously threw him in, clothes and all. 

Jared stood and shook the water from his hair. “Bastard,” he said.

The king merely laughed. “You have ten minutes,” he said. Then he turned and left the room. 

Jared removed himself from the bath, cursing the king and delighting in trailing water across the stone floor. He removed his clothes and tossed them in a corner before climbing back into the bath and sinking in all the way up to his nose. For a while, he just soaked. He closed his eyes and breathed in the steam. This was the first time he’d felt relaxed since he was taken. Despite the king waiting on the other side of the door, he was warm and comfortable, alone, and there was the promise of food in his future. Given the current state of his life, those few things seemed like small miracles; he would take what he could get. 

After a time, there was a knock on the door, and Jared sat up and began scrubbing himself, getting rid of dirt and sweat he hadn’t even realized he carried. His quick wash in his cell had done very little, especially considering what he’d done with the king immediately after. So Jared scrubbed until he was pink. He ran the washcloth gently over his sore hole, wincing at first, then sinking further into the water as the cloth began to soothe. He very gently pressed a finger inside in an attempt to rid himself of the king’s semen, but he flinched away and instead sunk back under the water and ran his fingers over his scalp and through his tangled hair. When he surfaced, the king was sitting cross-legged beside the bath, watching. 

Jared sank back into the water until it was up to his ears. He then realized that the water was quite clear and the king could most likely see everything anyway. He felt his face, already warm from the bath, flush so quickly he began to sweat, and he tried to cover himself with his hands. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“It’s my castle,” the king said.

“You know what I mean,” Jared said.

“Do I?” the king said.

“I would like some privacy.”

“And I would like little slave boys to realize they aren’t entitled to everything they want.”

“Sire,” Jared said. He thought briefly of letting the water take him.

“Jensen,” the king said.

Jared looked away. “Yes,” he said. “Jensen. I apologize.”

Jensen sighed. “Jared,” he said. “Are you going to get out of the water or aren’t you? I am hungry and you are keeping me from the kitchens.”

Jared pulled himself carefully from the water, trying to angle his body so that the king, who stood and backed up a step, could not see all of him. Only belatedly did he realize he had no clothes, nor anything with which to dry himself. 

“Sire,” Jared said. “Jensen—I have no clothes.”

“You presume I wish you to wear them,” Jensen said. 

Jared was sure he looked dumb in that moment, mouth gaping open and wordless, but the king only laughed before Jared could protest and said, “Relax, boy. I have no intention of showing off what’s mine.” He tossed a towel into Jared’s face and watched while Jared dried himself hurriedly. When he finished, Jensen handed Jared a small pile of clothing.

“They’re mine,” Jensen said. “They should fit, though the shirt may be big in the shoulders.”

“Thank you,” Jared said, quiet. He began to dress himself, conscious of the king’s watchful eyes.

“I wonder how long that will last,” Jensen said. “You look like you still have growing to do. By next winter you might surpass even my height.”

“I apologize?” Jared tried.

“I wasn’t chiding you for it, boy,” Jensen said. “You’ll be a beautiful man.”

Jared’s hands shook as he laced the trousers the king had given him. He pulled the king’s shirt, padded and warm, over his head, and though it was a bit short in the sleeves, it hung loose at his shoulders, revealing far too much skin as far as Jared was concerned. 

“It will have to do,” Jensen said. “Come, boy.” He turned and walked back into his bedchamber. Jared followed.

Jared was cold now that they’d left the warmth of the bathing chamber, and he stood shivering in the middle of the room. The king came toward him, then, with a piece of clothing that was beautiful in a way none of Jared’s clothing had ever been. It was made from some sort of hide, expertly tanned, and lined with a short fur. The king held it open, and Jared saw that it was similar to the doublet the king wore himself, sleeveless and short, though with none of the fine embroidery of the kings. It had a hem that would flare over Jared’s hips. 

When Jared didn’t immediately step into it, the king tutted and said, “arms.” 

Jared moved forward and let the king put it on him. The king brushed a hand down Jared’s shoulder and over the leather as he moved to stand in front of him. 

“I had it made for you during our journey,” Jensen said. “It is cold in the castle, and I know you’re not used to being out of the warmth. This should help.” He tugged at it a little to straighten it on Jared’s shoulders. 

“Thank you,” Jared said. He ran his hand down the front of it, the leather soft beneath his fingers. 

“You deserve something nice,” Jensen said. He shrugged, then, “Come. Let’s eat.”

***

Jared felt entirely lost, watching the king as they ate. They were at the same table with the same food, and Jared may come from a small village, but he knew how things worked; servants and kings did not eat as equals. His own father—the highest elder in a poor village without the favor of the king—didn’t even allow their one family servant the privilege of eating at the same table.

Jared wondered about this king, about the two separate sides of him that Jared had seen. There was the king who’d taken him, the warrior who’d driven an army across the country and humiliated Jared in front of his father, who treated Jared like the slave Jared thought he was; then there was this king, who seemed young and troubled and sat at the same table as Jared, and who laughed when Jared was disobedient as if it were a great entertainment. 

Still, Jared ate his fill of the wild boar and fresh bread and cheese, even took seconds when they were offered. He’d never been one to turn down a meal, and halfway through his second plate, he looked up to find the king staring at him, an amused smirk on his face.

“What?” Jared said.

Jensen snorted. “Should I alert the people that the city’s food storage will be emptied before the end of winter?”

Before Jared could apologize, the cook, Sam, smacked Jensen on the back of the head. “Hush up, Jensen. You weren’t any better when you were his age.”

“Ow,” Jensen replied. 

Jared pushed his plate away, suddenly exasperated. He put his clenched fists in his lap. “Sire—” Jared said.

“Jensen,” the king corrected.

“Jensen,” Jared said. He took a breath. “Why am I here?” 

“You don’t strike me as stupid,” Jensen said. 

Jared pounded his fist on the table, then he remembered himself and looked up guiltily at Jensen, who had only raised an eyebrow. Jared pressed his hand flat against the solid wood in an effort to calm down. “I’m _not_ stupid,” he said. “But this…none of this makes sense.”

“And what _would_ make sense?” Jensen said, his voice level.

“I expected to be your whore,” Jared blurted. 

“Do you want to be my _whore_?” Jensen said, emphasizing the word strangely, as if it amused him, as if he didn’t understand why it would be bad. 

“Last night,” Jared said. He flicked his eyes to Sam who was busying herself kneading bread dough and pretending not to listen. “You fucked me last night.”

“I was there,” Jensen said.

“Don’t do that,” Jared said. “Please don’t be so flippant.” 

When he looked up, he saw the king didn’t look amused at all. He ran a hand down his face, and Jared heard the king’s stubble rasp against his callused hand. 

“You took me into your bed last night,” Jared said, “but now I sit at your table as if we are equals.”

“What a mess this is,” the king said. He pushed his own food away. “I didn’t bring you here to be my whore, boy.”

“But in my village, after the battle, you said…” Jared turned his eyes away. He’d spent many nights during their travel thinking about what the king had said, about how he’d love to fuck a pretty thing like Jared. “You made it seem as if that’s all it was. As if that’s all you want me for.”

“A show,” Jensen said. “To anger your father. I don’t like him much.”

“There’s a history between you,” Jared said. 

He knew the stories: He knew about the man from his village who was once the head elder of the Council of the South but had betrayed the Southern townships by aligning himself with Jensen’s father. Jared had been just a baby, but it was said his people would have been enslaved had it not been for Jared’s father uniting them against the traitor from the South and the king from the North. Jared was sure the North told its own version of that history, so the blood between Jensen and Jared’s father was undoubtedly bad.

“Yes,” Jensen said, and he looked suddenly haunted. His eyes were pinned to the table, and Jared could only see thick lashes lining delicate skin. He could read no particular emotion there. “There is a history. And his selling you like a piece of chattel did not do much to endear him to me.”

“Sell me?” Jared said, his anger returning. “You took me, you miserable bastard! I would be home with my family if it weren’t for you.” 

“Maybe,” Jensen said. “But you’re better off here.”

“Horse shit,” Jared said.

“Believe what you want.” Jensen stood. 

“You’re a slaver,” Jared said, “and a piece of swine, _sire_.” He flattened both hands on the table and stood, staring the king in the eye. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t thank you for taking me from my home to be used as your bed toy.”

Jensen’s face was turned away, his jaw clenched tightly enough Jared could see the muscle tick beneath the growth of hair. “Believe what you want,” Jensen said again. “Jeffrey!” he called. 

The king’s advisor stepped into the kitchens. 

“Take Jared.” 

Jeff nodded once. “Come, boy,” he said. 

“I’m not a boy,” Jared said. He turned back to the king. “Nor am I a dog to be ordered around.”

Jensen leaned across the table and grabbed Jared by the bicep. He half pulled Jared across the tabletop and put his mouth very close to Jared’s ear. Jared felt his cock stir at the sensation, and his entire body flushed. He swallowed the gasp that wanted to escape.

“You are trying my patience, _boy_ ,” Jensen said. He shoved Jared away. “Go with Jeff or I’ll have you sleeping in the stables where even that fine covering I’ve given you won’t keep you warm.”

Jared trailed his fingers along his doublet. He felt the urge to apologize, but shoved it far down deep to be buried by the anger. Even so, he didn’t feel it smart to push his luck and turned without saying a word to follow Jeff out of the kitchens. 

“You’re playing with fire, kid,” Jeff said, once they were well out of earshot. 

“I don’t particularly care,” Jared said. 

“Is that right?” Jeff said. He looked at Jared sidelong and snorted when Jared only glowered at him. “The king can be a mean son-of-a-bitch,” he said, “but he can be good to you, too, if you let him be.” 

“Why would I want that?” Jared said. He scuffed at the stone floor, and Jeff stopped, turned to face Jared.

“Would you rather be treated like a slave?” he said. “Would you rather work the fields? Eat grain mash and shiver with the cold in your bed at night? Maybe wake up to find a loved one dead from the freeze? Or to find your master in your bed?” 

“I’d rather be home,” Jared said. 

“This is your home now.” Jeff reached behind him into the shadows, levered something upwards, and pushed. “In you go,” he said.

“What’s this?” Jared said.

“Your cell,” Jeff said, his voice disinterested. “You don’t want to be around the king right now, so this is the alternative.”

Jared hesitated, peering into the shadows.

“I won’t ask again, Jared,” Jeff said.

Jared nodded and stepped inside. He heard the heavy door close behind him, and his whole body shuddered at the sudden dark. He felt his way toward the straw mattress and sat down, folding himself into the corner, letting the solidness of the wall at his back steady him. His throat felt swollen and his eyes burned, but he absolutely refused to cry. 

 

Part II

Jared couldn’t say how long he was kept in his cell—long enough to have been brought three tasteless meals of the grain mash Jeffery had threatened; long enough to have fallen into a fitful sleep, then to have woken furious and spiteful and screaming at the door to be let free; long enough to have fallen asleep again, only to dream of the feel of Jensen’s hand at the nape of his neck, Jensen’s lips against his ear, and to wake up hard and angry about it, then to roughly pull at his cock until he came all over his own hand and who knows where else. He stood then, wiped his hands against his shirtsleeves until he thought they were clean, and—overheated from his exertions and suddenly worried about soiling the fine leather—took off the vest Jensen had given him. He folded it carefully and set it near the head of his mattress until he was shivering and was forced to wear it again. 

When the door opened for a final time, Jared expected to see the guard who’d brought his food or perhaps Jeff; instead, Jensen stood in the doorway, backlit with torchlight from the hallway. Jared was torn between wanting to kill the man and wanting to hug him. 

After a moment, stretched full like a bead of water before it dropped, the king spoke. “I’m sorry,” he said. 

“Sorry?” 

“My punishment was too harsh.”

“Is that what this was?” Jared said. “Punishment?”

“What did you think it was?”

“You hearing a truth you didn’t like and taking your anger out on whoever you could.” 

The king only sighed. “You don’t understand everything, Jared,” he said. “There are many things at work here that aren’t what they seem.”

He stood and faced the king. “Then explain them to me,” he said.

“No.”

“Why not?” 

“You are not in a state to hear them,” Jensen said. 

Jared, suddenly furious, shoved the king, hitting him square in the chest and startling him into taking a few steps backwards. In the light of the hallway, Jared could see the king’s face clearly. He looked tired, dark circles beneath his eyes, lips dry and harsh red, hair in unruly spikes as if he’d been running his hands through it. The king looked tired, but not the least bit surprised by Jared’s anger.

“If I had my blade,” Jared said, “I’d force you to explain.”

Jensen held his hands up then pulled a knife from the sheath at his forearm. He held it out to Jared, handle first. “Take it, then,” Jensen said. “Let’s see what you can do.”

When Jared didn’t move, Jensen grabbed Jared’s wrist and placed the weapon in his hand. 

“Take it,” he said again. 

Jared saw nothing but sincerity in Jensen’s face. He took hold of the blade. “Why are you giving me your weapon?” he said.

“You won’t kill me,” Jensen said. “You couldn’t even if you wanted to.”

“Watch me,” Jared said. He lunged toward the king, who grabbed his wrist and twisted Jared around before he could do any harm. He forced Jared’s front against the stone wall and pressed his arm upwards until Jared grunted and dropped the blade. 

Jared dropped his forehead against the wall. “Let go,” he murmured. He was so cold, but he could feel the heat of the king at his back, the bulge of the king’s cock against his ass, and he felt his own cock stirring again at the feel of it. 

“Stop baiting me, Jared,” the king said. 

“Fuck off,” Jared said. 

The king ground his cock against Jared and moaned, dropped his head until his forehead was resting on the crown of Jared’s hair. Jared felt the king’s breath against his scalp.

“Fuck,” Jensen said. “You make me crazy. How is that possible?” He kicked Jared’s legs wider and, with his free hand, rubbed Jared’s cock through his pants.

“I hate you,” Jared said, the words broken over a moan.

“But you’re hard for me,” Jensen said. “Did you miss me, Jared? While you were in your cell? Did you think of me?”

“No,” Jared said.

“You smell like you thought of me,” Jensen said. “Smell like you did more than think.” 

He dragged his lips through Jared’s hair and tilted Jared’s head to the side, licked his neck. When Jared began to pull away, Jensen bit down on the tendon until Jared whimpered and went pliant. He unlaced Jared’s pants, pulled his cock out and stroked it until it was slick with pre-come and so hard it was painful. Jared knocked his forehead against the wall. The king must have unlaced his own pants at some point because suddenly Jared could feel his bare cock rubbing against the cleft of his ass.

The king lifted Jared’s hands until they were crossed at the wrists above his head. He held them there as he thrust against Jared, using the space between Jared’s cheeks to rub himself to completion. Jared held his hands as fists while he felt the king’s come splatter against his bare skin. Then there was a moment of near panic when Jared thought the king would leave him like that—naked and dirty and wanting—but then the king was grabbing Jared’s cock and tugging at it until Jared came all over the wall. 

The king held him for a few moments after. When he released him, Jared stayed slouched against the wall, not sure if he could move of his own volition. He felt wrecked. He’d never had an orgasm like that from his own hand, not even the day he’d come of age after his friend Gen had taken him out into the fields of long grasses, removed her top and let him look and touch, drag his thumbs across her brown, pebbled nipples. 

He felt the king’s hand between his shoulder blades. “Take your time,” the king said. “I have business to attend to today, but I will see you this evening.”

Jared took a deep breath, turned to face the king. The king stepped forward. He righted Jared’s pants, tucked his cock away. Jared turned his face away, embarrassed.

“What am I to do?” Jared said.

“Explore,” the king said. “Get to know the castle. If there is anywhere you should not be, my guards will stop you. You are welcome to bathe; find clean clothes. You’ll have your own clothes soon. My tailor will visit.” 

The king touched Jared’s face, pressed his cheek lightly until Jared looked at him. He dragged his thumb across Jared’s bottom lip, then he leaned in and kissed Jared’s forehead.

***

Jared wandered around the castle’s halls, restless and filthy. After Jensen had left him slouched against the wall, Jared tried to right himself then went in search of a way to escape, or, barring that, a way to stave off the boredom and low-grade anger—at Jensen, at his father, at the entire gods be damned kingdom—that had risen as his embarrassment had waned. When each new hall he turned down offered up only more stone walls and torches and grey daylight, when everywhere he turned there was one of the king’s guard watching him, stone-faced and silent, Jared found himself wanting to shout the castle down until someone spoke to him or acknowledged him, and he was only a little ashamed that it was Jensen who he hoped would come. 

It had been morning when Jensen released him from his cell, and by day’s end, when the muted tones of the sun through the castle’s heavy stained glass windows grew even more listless and dull, Jared found himself in some sort of library, slouched in an armchair and wishing someone would start a fire in the grate. He felt chilled right down to his marrow. Even the company of the mercurial king was better than this ache. Jared wondered where he was meant to sleep tonight. The king had said Jared would see him, but it was late, and Jared found himself doubting the king’s word.

He fell asleep in that chair—hungry, cold, alone.

He woke to someone poking him in the chest. For a moment he thought his little sister had come to wake him, but only for a moment. Even before opening his eyes, he remembered where he was and just how he felt about it. He squinted his eyes open, then blinked at the unexpected torchlight falling across his face. 

“What is the hour?” he said, his voice heavy with sleep. 

Whoever poked him awake laughed above him. “It is early yet. Too early for sleep. And this is not your bedchamber.” 

Jared looked up and, for a moment, wasn’t sure if he was looking at a boy or a girl. This person was Jared’s age, maybe a year or two older, and had Jared’s same length of hair, which curled against a slender neck and sharp cheekbones and fell into ice blue eyes lined with khol to match reddened lips.

“Oh, you’re very beautiful,” this creature said before reaching out to touch Jared’s face.

Jared jerked away. “Don’t touch me,” he said. “I’m not a pet to be caressed at whim.”

That earned him a laugh. “The king must like you.”

Now that Jared was more fully awake, he could tell he was talking to a man. His voice was just this side of too deep to be a woman’s, and though his skin was very smooth in the dim light, not a hint of facial hair, Jared could see the gentle bob of an Adam’s apple at his throat. He sat up in his chair. “Who are you?” he said.

The boy ignored him, brushed his fingers across the leather of Jared’s doublet. “This is too fine to be slept in,” he said. He clucked his tongue a bit. “The king has one like it. Did he give it to you?”

Jared nodded slowly.

The boy seemed to remember himself and straightened. “I am Max,” he said. “The king’s servant.”

“If you’re the king’s servant, why have I not seen you before?” Jared said.

The boy smiled playfully. “The king’s been keeping you from me. Doesn’t want his pretty toys played with.”

“The king seems quite possessive,” Jared said. 

“Oh, that he is,” Max said. “Come. We have much work to do. I’ve been sent to bathe you. You are very beautiful, but you are also very dirty and look as if you were perhaps raised in the woods.”

“I was raised in the South,” Jared said.

“Yes, I know,” Max said, wrinkling his nose a bit. “Unfortunate.”

“Excuse me?”

“We shall have your eyebrows threaded, I think,” Max said, “and your hair needs a trim. Come, Jared.”

“And if I don’t?” Jared said.

“The king will likely have your balls as punishment. And it would be a shame. I imagine yours are quite nice.”

“He wouldn’t…” Jared cleared his throat. “He wouldn’t actually do something like that, would he?”

Max simply raised one perfectly arched eyebrow in response, and Jared followed him without much fuss after that. 

Max stayed in the room while Jared bathed and seemed unbothered by the fact that Jared knew how closely he was watched. Max sat on his knees beside the pool of water and ran his hand over its surface. 

“You’re lucky,” he said. “These are the king’s own chambers. I have been his since I was a child, and even I’ve never been allowed the use of them.”

“You and the king,” Jared said. He thought for a moment about how best to ask for what he wanted to know. “You’re close?”

“I am his servant.” Max shrugged as if that said it all. 

“Yes,” Jared said, “but?”

“Are we intimate?” Max said.

Jared nodded.

“Are you jealous?” 

“Of course not,” Jared said. “Why would I be?”

“The king _is_ very handsome,” Max said. He cupped some water in his hands and let it trickle through his fingers. “He has been courted by many Princes and Princesses from all sides of the realm and from far away. And you are sharing his bed. It would not be so unusual if you found yourself possessive of him as he is of you.”

“I’m not possessive,” Jared said. “And you’ve not answered my question.” 

Max sighed. “You’ve nothing to worry about, Jared,” he said. He sounded suddenly serious, his voice lowering slightly, roughening. “The king will be good to you.” 

Jared’s mouth was dry, and he felt an ache in his chest he couldn’t explain. Max’s words felt weighted, but Jared didn’t know the meaning that made them so. 

“Are you finished yet?” Max said. “The night grows long, and the king will have need of you.”

“You still haven’t answered my question,” Jared said.

“The king fucks me, Jared. Not that it’s your business.” He bit his lip and turned his head away. “I am his,” he said. He reached into the water and pulled the stopper. As the water drained, he stood and threw a towel at Jared’s head. “Come into the king’s chamber when you’ve finished.”

It was only after Jared had stepped out of the basin and dried himself that he realized Max had taken his clothes and left him nothing new. He walked into the king’s chamber, covering what he could with the drying-cloth.

“Jared,” Max tutted. “You won’t be needing that.”

He pulled Jared’s towel away and disappeared with it. When he returned, he pointed to the end of the bed. “Sit,” he said. 

Jared, trying to keep his mind off his embarrassment, watched as Max spread a small cache of cosmetics on the bed beside him. He wore fitted, soft-looking leather pants that laced at the crotch and a padded linen tunic much like Jared’s but cut deep with nothing to lace it shut so that his chest peeked through. He stood close to Jared as he brushed and tugged the tangles from his hair before spreading Jared’s towel across his shoulders, and moving Jared’s face this way and that as he trimmed his hair with a pair of sharp, silver scissors. Jared had only ever had his hair cut by his mother, and she used a sharpened blade. This felt different, intimate. He could feel the heat of Max close to him, hear his breaths. When he moved, the slit of his tunic shifted to reveal one pink nipple, pierced with a delicate silver ring.

“You’re staring,” Max said.

“You stared at me in the bath,” Jared said. 

“Fair enough,” Max said. “But am I really that interesting?”

“I’ve never seen anything like you,” Jared said.

“Is that right?” Max said. He lifted an eyebrow and grinned a little at Jared, like the comment pleased him. 

When Max set the scissors down, Jared shook his head, the new lightness of his hair unsettling. Then Max placed his palm on Jared’s forehead and pushed gently until Jared’s head tilted backwards. 

“What are you doing?” Jared said. 

“Hold still,” Max said.

He held up a long piece of thread and wound it around his fingers. Jared tried to watch him, but then Max was putting the thread to his eyebrow.

“Ow, fuck,” Jared said. He yanked his face away. 

“Hold still,” Max said. “Or I’ll take your entire eyebrow.”

“That hurts,” Jared said.

“Beauty is supposed to hurt,” Max said. 

He went back to work, Jared clenched his eyes shut and breathed through his mouth. 

When Max finished, Jared rubbed at his brows with his fingers.

“Stop it,” Max said. He dabbed a cream around Jared’s eyes and down his nose and at the corners of his mouth. “This is for moisture,” Max said. “The cold and wind is hard on a person’s skin. Peasants can afford to look old before their time, but you can’t. You’ll apply this morning and night.” 

“I’m not a girl,” Jared said.

“Who said anything about girls?” Max said. “You’re lucky you’re not a girl. If you were, you’d have nothing to offer the king.”

“This is what he likes?” Jared said.

Max paused, then nodded slowly. “He likes his boys soft. Pretty.”

Jared flushed. “Will my clothes be like yours?” he said.

Max snorted. “Wouldn’t Jensen like that,” he said. “No. I imagine your clothes will be presentable. You are not the king’s slave, Jared.”

“Then what am I?” Jared said.

“If the king hasn’t told you, then it is not my place to say.”

Jared rolled his eyes. “Just tell me,” he said.

“No,” Max said. “I’m the king’s slave; not yours. You’d do well to think twice before giving me orders. I have the king’s confidence, and I’m not going to throw that away for someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” Jared said.

He watched as Max gathered his things. Before Jared could stop him, Max was walking away, leaving Jared naked in the king’s chamber. Jared sighed in frustration and wrapped himself in a fur blanket that had been left on the king’s armchair. He wondered if it was the king’s own and imagined he smelled the man in the furs, a hint of cold air and field grass and the same spiced soaps Jared had used to bathe. Jared felt his cock begin to harden at the thought and pressed at it with the heel of his palm. He folded himself into the king’s armchair to wait. 

The king found Jared like that not long after. 

“Where are your clothes?” the king said. He looked confused, and not a little amused by the situation.

“Your servant left me like this.” He tried not to sound sulky. 

“Ah,” Jensen said. “He does things like that.” 

He was smiling that smile that reached all the way up to his eyes and made the delicate skin there crinkle. 

“And you allow him to?” Jared said, when he found his voice.

“I don’t _allow_ Max to do much of anything. Kid gets away with whatever he wants.” Jensen sat in the other arm chair to face Jared. “I know this is all confusing for you,” he said, and Jared stared very hard at his hands while Jensen spoke, “but I want you to be comfortable here. I want this to be your home.” 

Jared grimaced, and it was obvious by the way the king shuffled that he noticed. “I know that’s difficult to imagine,” the king said. 

“My village is my home,” Jared said.

“Yes,” Jensen said. “But you can’t go back.”

“You mean you won’t let me go back.”

Jensen said nothing, but he was looking at Jared carefully as if he expected something.

“What…” Jared paused, licked his lips. “What do you want?” he said.

“Come here,” Jensen said. 

“Why?” Jared said.

“Jared,” Jensen said. “I would like you to come here and kneel in front of me.”

Jared nodded and folded slowly to his knees. The king pushed the blanket from around his shoulders and Jared let it fall to the floor.

Jared had watched the whores carefully during the weeks of travel from the South, had memorized the techniques they used to make the men believe they were wanted. He thought maybe the king would want that, would want Jared to lick his lips and look up at him from beneath his lashes, but with the stone floor cold and unforgiving against his knobby knees, and the king’s scent and warmth so very near, Jared forgot all about those women and what they had done. He didn’t know at all what the king wanted. 

The king touched his face and tilted Jared’s head up. He touched Jared’s bottom lip with his thumb. “Open up,” he said.

Jared did as he was told, and the king pressed his thumb into Jared’s mouth, rubbed the pad of it against Jared’s tongue. 

“Suck,” the king whispered. 

Jared shivered. He felt a flood in his belly as if he’d been suddenly dropped from a great height. He thought of refusing, but in that moment, he was absolutely incapable of listening to his brain, his body was so taken by fear and arousal. He closed his lips gently around the king’s thumb, curled his tongue, tried not to scrape with his teeth.

“Look at that,” Jensen said, his voice a rasp. “You’re beautiful when you’re obedient.” 

Jared finally met the king’s eyes. He was staring at Jared as if he’d never seen anything like him. He was staring at Jared as if he would devour him whole. His eyes were blown wide open, all pupil, and Jared felt suddenly powerful; he moaned around the king’s thumb and bit down, hard. 

Jensen hissed and pulled back. He gripped Jared by the nape of the neck and pulled him up until he was kneeling at his full height. He grabbed Jared’s lower lip with his teeth, tugged until Jared was whimpering. He pulled away, whispered in Jared’s ear, “I feel your teeth again, you won’t walk for a week. Understand?”

“Yes, sire,” Jared said. 

Jensen bit his earlobe, then bit down the line of Jared’s jaw. He took Jared’s face in his hands and pressed their lips together. He dug his thumbs into the hinge of Jared’s jaw, forcing entrance. Jared gave. He gave in to the feeling of the king’s tongue on his own, of the king’s tongue tasting his teeth, the roof of his mouth, of the king breathing his breaths. The king didn’t pull away until Jared felt as if he couldn’t breathe.

Jared started to loosen his grip on the king’s forearms, but Jensen said, “no,” and Jared stayed where he was. 

The king held him like that for a moment, and Jared kneeled, his face too close to the king’s, his cock hard and wanting. Jared dropped his eyes, and the king finally loosened his grip and allowed Jared to sit back on his heels. 

Jared watched as the king unlaced his pants. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. He tried to rest them on his thighs, but then the need became too great and he stroked his dick, just once, just to take some of the edge off as he watched the king undress.

The king gripped his chin. “No,” he said. 

Jared stilled. His eyes tripped upwards, to the king’s mouth, to his cheeks with their freckles that Jared found endearing no matter how hard he tried not to, and finally his eyes. Jared expected anger; instead, the king looked amused. Aroused.

“That’s mine,” Jensen said. “You don’t touch it unless I’ve given permission.”

Jared tried to nod, but the king’s grip was too strong. “Please,” he said, instead. “I understand.”

Jensen turned Jared’s head and kissed his temple. “You’ll find release tonight,” he said. “Have patience.”

“I’ve never been patient,” Jared said.

Jensen laughed, his breath puffing across Jared’s ear. “Now that I can believe.”

Jensen let go of Jared, and Jared shivered with his entire body when he saw that the king’s cock was free, rising red and fat from the opening of his pants, a pearl of pre-come at the tip. He had no foreskin, and Jared had heard of such a thing but had not seen it. His palms itched, and he found himself wanting to touch the head of Jensen’s cock, to _feel_ the difference between Jensen’s cock and his own, wanting to slick the king’s juices down his shaft for him. 

The king touched Jared’s cheek, his thumb gentle on the corner of Jared’s mouth, and Jared understood immediately what the king wanted of him. 

He looked at the king, unable to keep the fear from his face. “Sire, please,” he said. “I’ve never…”

“I know, boy,” Jensen said. “You’ll be fine.”

Jared nodded and swallowed, his throat and mouth too dry, his words completely gone. 

“Come closer,” Jensen said. He gripped Jared’s face just a bit harder. “And remember what I said about teeth.”

The king led Jared toward his cock. He tried to mimic what he’d seen the whores do during their travels to the citadel. He opened his mouth, curled his lips around his teeth, and flicked his tongue out to touch the tip of the king. The king tasted of sweat and bitter come, and Jared wanted to grimace and pull away, but instead he moved more quickly forward and pulled the head of the king’s cock into his mouth, flattened his tongue against the underside. 

The king hissed above him. “Good,” he said.

Jared tried to breathe through his nose. He could tell he was beginning to drool, and he started to pull away. But the king wrapped his hand around the back of Jared’s head and held him close. He stroked his cock again, right in front of Jared’s face, and Jared chased the king’s hand with his tongue, flattening it against the underside and dragging it slow and wet up the shaft until he reached the head. He took it into his mouth again and suckled, and the king began to thrust shallowly. He held the base of his own shaft where Jared couldn’t reach, his hand slicking through pre-come and Jared’s drool.

When Jensen came, Jared panicked and pulled away, the king’s come half on his tongue and the rest across his lips and chin. He swallowed what he had, gulping it down too quickly, then coughing. He wiped his mouth with the back of his arm.

The king grabbed him by the biceps and pulled him up practically into his lap. He licked Jared’s chin and the corners of his mouth, cleaning him, then kissed Jared as both of them gasped for breath. When he pulled away, he wiped a tear from Jared’s face that Jared hadn’t even felt fall.

“Good boy,” the king said. “That’s my good boy.”

The king put Jared on his feet and tugged him toward the bed. Jared collapsed on top of the fur. When he caught his breath, he propped himself up on his elbows to watch the king undress. 

It’s not as if Jared had never seen another man’s naked form before. The men in his village worked wrapped from head to toe to protect themselves from the sun, but when the work was through, they wore little, lounging in the shade all but bare while the wives cooked and washed the dust and sweat from their work clothes. Jared had seen naked men before, had even, to his great shame, lusted after a few. But not one of them had looked like Jensen, had looked like this king. Tall and lean, muscled, yes, but not overly so. His body gave the impression of strength held in check, and Jared knew from intimate experience that the king was quite strong despite his leanness, able to lift and move even Jared’s long, lanky frame. 

Jensen smiled when he noticed Jared was watching. “Like what you see?” he said.

“Yes,” Jared said, feeling quite bold for having admitted it. 

The king’s smile softened. “I’m glad,” he said. He crawled, naked, on top of Jared, pressed him back against the bed, tilted Jared’s head backwards and kissed his neck. He ground his cock against Jared’s erection.

Jared groaned and grabbed the king’s shoulders. He humped against Jensen’s leg as Jensen dipped his head, sucked and bit a bruise into Jared’s chest, and let Jared find his pleasure against the king’s body.

When Jared finally came, he felt the king smile against his skin. “Stay here for a minute,” the king whispered.

Jared could only nod. He threw his arm over his eyes while he waited for the king to return. 

“Let’s clean you up,” the king said. He had a warm, wet rag, and he cleaned first Jared’s face, then his crotch and legs. 

“Thank you,” Jared said.

The king shrugged and tossed the rag to the floor. “Make room for me,” the king said.

Jared did, and the king held the covers back so Jared could get under. The king slid into the bed beside him and pulled Jared close, arranging him so that he was against the king’s side, his head on the king’s arm for support.

“Shouldn’t I get dressed?” Jared said.

“You’ll have no need of clothes tonight.”

“But if the fire gets too low…”

“A servant will enter later to take care of it, Jared,” the king said. “You don’t need to worry.”

“Oh,” Jared said. “I’m not used to the cold,” he said quietly.

The king brushed Jared’s hair back from his head. 

“Will you stay here tonight?” Jared said.

“Do you want me to?” the king said.

“It’s your bed,” Jared said.

The king snorted a laugh. “That’s not what I asked.”

Jared thought for a moment. “If you stay,” he said. “It will be warmer.” 

“That’s true,” the king said.

“I want you to say,” Jared said then, his voice barely a whisper. He was surprised to find that the words were almost as true as not. 

He felt the king’s lips at the top of his head, and Jared felt torn between the desire to press into it and the desire to pull away. He closed his eyes, praying he would dream of the South, of soft grasses against the palms of his hands, of the chalk-white dust he’d played in as a child and that covered his skin like war paint after a days hunting and labor. He prayed he would dream of the sun, and he let himself fall asleep in the King’s arms.

 

Part III

When Jared woke, it was to the sounds of hushed conversation. He stilled his body and listened.

“This is not prudent.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, Jeff,” Jensen said.

“I’m your advisor. It’s my job to give you counsel, whether you wish to hear it or not.”

“Not about this.”

“The boy is a political matter.”

There was a lull of silence, and Jared thought to make himself known, but then Jensen spoke again.

“I want him,” he said. “He belongs to me.”

Jared hitched a breath, and his entire body trilled, though he did not quite understand why. 

“It’s more complicated than that,” Jeff said. 

_No, it isn’t_ , Jared thought.

“It shouldn’t need to be,” Jensen said.

“Maybe not,” Jeff said. “But it is.”

There was a hush of cloth rubbing against cloth as one of the men shifted.

“He’s young,” Jeff said.

“By the time I was sixteen winters, I’d fought my first battle and bedded men and women both.” 

“But you did not grow up in a township removed from the kingdom and kept purposefully isolated by your elders.”

Jared stilled even more at that, as motionless as a hunter-spotted deer.

“He’s been sheltered; that doesn’t mean he’s immature.”

“Don’t be willfully ignorant, Jensen,” Jeff said, his voice rough with anger. “You are king. You cannot afford such luxuries.” 

When Jensen didn’t answer, Jeff sighed. Jared thought he caught the sound of stubble dragged across the palm of a hand. 

“Does he even want you in return?” Jeff said.

Jensen didn’t reply. 

“This,” Jeff said. “Whatever this was that I walked in on…if it’s a manipulation—” 

“He’s impetuous, Jeff. He’s not manipulative.” 

Silence.

“Jeff, you yourself just called him sheltered.”

“But not innocent. He was raised by Jed Ackles, of all people.”

And that gave Jared pause. He’d not heard that name before. 

Jeff continued. “Raised to believe you’re a barbarian. That you plunder villages like his for sport. Whoever he once might have been, the boy lying in that bed right now is not your ally.”

“He could be,” Jensen said.

“Have you even told him yet?” Jeff said.

“You counseled me not to.”

“And on _this_ you listen to me.”

“You were right,” Jensen said. “He’s not ready to hear it.”

“The truth could make him loyal to you.”

“Or it could make him hate me. He won’t believe it for truth. No one wants to learn that sort of thing about their parents, and I’m not ready to have my throat slit in my sleep for being the bearer of bad news.”

Jared’s entire body ached to shout that he was awake, to force them to tell him what they were talking about, but he kept quiet. He didn’t know if it was fear or intelligence that kept him so.

“Majesty,” Jeff said. “He’ll find out, one way or the other. It should come from you.”

Jared again heard a rustle of cloth, a throat clearing, then Jensen’s low, “yeah,” whispered into the room. And when Jeff quietly left, Jared shut his eyes tight and pretended to sleep again. 

The pretense didn’t last long. He felt the bed dip as Jensen sat beside him.

“How much did you hear?” Jensen said.

Jared cracked one eye open to look at the king. His eyes were intent on Jared’s face.

“Enough,” Jared said.

“Of course,” Jensen said. He rubbed a hand down his face, hard enough to tug his lips, the perfect bow of them, out of shape. 

“You do not sleep enough,” Jared said. “Have you been up all night?” 

“Do you really care how much sleep I get?” Jensen asked.

“Yes,” Jared said. “It mars your handsome face when you’re so tired. There are smudges under your eyes.” Jared reached to touch the king’s face, but the king pulled away.

“I did not give you permission to touch me,” he said. His voice sounded angry, but his face looked slightly pained. His hand twitched in his lap.

“Max said I am not your slave,” Jared said.

“That does not mean you can touch me as you please.”

Jared sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and thought for a moment. He wanted to berate the king for the fairness of that, but he didn’t think that would get him anywhere. Instead, he said, “You didn’t answer my question.”

“There was no question to answer,” Jensen said.

“Am I your slave?” Jared asked. He sat up and wrapped his arms around his knees, put himself at eye-level with the king. He shivered a bit in the cool air, wished for the doublet the king had gifted him. The dim morning light was not near enough to warm the room.

Jensen looked away from him. “No,” he said. “You are not my slave.”

“Then I could leave if I wanted?” Jared said.

“No,” Jensen said.

“Then I am your prisoner.”

“No,” Jensen said, more emphatically this time.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Jared said. “What were you talking about? What did Jeff want you to tell me?”

Jensen shook his head.

“This. What we did…Jensen,” Jared said. He clenched his hands into fists. “I want this. Gods help me, but I’m intrigued by you. I want to know you, but I need you to give me a reason to believe that’s okay.”

At first, it didn’t seem as if the king would respond, and when he started talking, his words were quiet enough Jared had to strain to hear them. “We were meant to be married once, you and I,” Jensen said.

“What?” Jared asked, startled. “How can that be right?”

Men didn’t marry, he wanted to say. But according to his father, men also did not fuck each other, and what he and Jensen had just done had gone a long way toward disproving his father’s truth. 

“You were born in this citadel,” Jensen went on. He still would not look at Jared, and he clenched his jaw visibly, hard enough that Jared thought it must hurt. “To a young princess and the head elder of the Council of the South. When the Southern townships were still a part of my father’s kingdom.”

He looked at Jared then, eyes very wide and very green. “I was only taking what was mine,” he said. 

“Jensen—”

He shook his head. “Let me finish.” When Jared didn’t respond, he continued. “The Southern townships have always been troubled. There had been three drought years in a row. Your people and the people of the surrounding townships were having trouble growing crops, and your livestock were dropping from the heat and lack of water. There needed to be irrigation systems built to bring water from the river to your lands. Filtration systems to make the water clean.”

“I know all of this, Jensen,” Jared said. “The king turned his back on us. Your _father_ turned his back on us.” It was why they lived the way they lived now, hunting down every meal, using what water they could carry to coax crops from the chalky soil. 

Jensen snorted, the sound bitter, and the look Jensen gave Jared echoed the look he’d seen on Jensen’s face only on the battlefield immediately before he’d claimed Jared as his prize. 

“The man who told you that is a goddamned liar,” Jensen said.

Jared began to kick his way out of the bed. Jensen stopped him and pushed him back down. He stood over him, looked down at him. Jared had to tilt his head back to see the king’s face.

“No, Jared,” Jensen said. “You asked to hear this. Please just listen to me.”

“That’s my father you’re calling a liar,” Jared said. 

Jensen shook his head. He closed his eyes for a moment, his hand heavy at the join of Jared’s shoulder and neck. He squeezed once, then opened his eyes and spoke again. “I won’t deny my father was neglectful,” he said. “He didn’t pay enough attention to the outskirts of the kingdom. And not just in the South, but to the East and West, as well. It’s an error I’ve been trying to correct.”

Jensen sat next to Jared when Jared finally stilled again; he left only a few inches between them. 

“But when there was talk of an uprising,” Jensen continued, “my father did not ignore the needs of the people. He sent my uncle to meet with your father, to offer aid, and to offer an alliance—a marriage that would tie the North and South.”

“You and I,” Jared said.

Jensen nodded. “Your mother was pregnant. I was eight-winters-old. When you were born, we were to be betrothed. Your father accepted the offer. Of course he did. It made sense: They would receive the aid they needed and you would not be forced to struggle for your existence. And as a Prince, you would bring wealth to the Southern townships.”

“If all of that is true, then why are things as they are?” Jared asked. “Why did your father banish our villages? Whatever struggles we faced doubled all because the head elder of the Council betrayed our people; he sold us to your father and when my father fought back…” Jared slowed. Something wasn’t right. “Wait,” he said. “But you said my father _was_ the head of the Council.”

“Yes, Jared,” the king said. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“But then you’ve got the wrong boy. I’m not who you were meant to marry. My father was not the head of the council at the time. Not until after we were banished. He led the revolt.”

Jensen shook his head. “The man who raised you was not the head of the Council. Nor is he your father.”

“What?” Jared said. He felt light suddenly, as if he could float right up off the bed. He blinked at Jensen, trying to make sense of what he’d said. 

“I’m sorry, Jared,” Jensen said. He rested his hand on Jared’s shoulder. 

Jared shook it off. “Explain,” he said. 

“Your father _was_ the head elder for the Council of the South. And my father brought him and your mother here to the citadel while you were growing in her womb. He wanted to make sure she had the best possible medical attention, and he wanted your father near while treaties were written and signed.” 

Jensen cleared his throat. “But they were away from the village too long. Your people were already mistrustful of the king, and my uncle had long hated my father for stealing what he saw as his throne. So, while your parents were away, my uncle turned your people against my father and yours. He told them no aid was coming. He told them that your father and mother were selling out their own people in exchange for riches. That the only way the king would help is if the people of your township were enslaved. He raised an army. And after you were born, as your mother and father traveled with the king’s guard to bring you back to your home, they met my uncle’s army. Your mother and father did not survive.”

“And your uncle?” Jared said.

“Is the man who raised you,” Jensen said. “Jed Ackles, though I understand he rid himself of that name a long time ago. He’s the man who sold you to me to save his own life.”

“I don’t believe you,” Jared said. 

“My uncle took you during the fight as a bargaining chip. You were just a baby, Jared,” Jensen said. “But he never got the chance to use you. My father banished the townships as punishment before Jed could even tell us you were still alive. We thought you were dead.”

“And how do you know I’m that baby? How do you know your uncle didn’t have a child and the child you think I am didn’t die on that battlefield?” 

“The mole by your nose,” Jensen said. He brushed it with his thumb, and Jared shivered at the touch. “You had it then, too.” 

“Anyone could have a mole,” Jared whispered. 

Jensen gripped Jared’s chin and tilted Jared’s head. He brushed Jared’s hair behind his ear and touched a spot on the soft skin behind the lobe where Jared knew there was a hook shaped scar that he’d never known the source of. 

“And this,” Jensen said. “The first time I held you, I nicked you with my nail. I was terrified to hold you after that. You were here for six months, you know, and I watched over you even then. As if you were mine already. I had lessons in sword fighting and lessons with Jeff—my tutor then,” Jensen shook his head a little. “And your mom would indulge me by sitting in the same room, keeping you near and caring for you while I studied. While I played at protecting you.” He smiled, a straw smile—blow too hard and it would tumble away. “I couldn’t protect you, though,” he said. “You were my first death. I’ve seen friends die in battle; I’ve killed men myself. I watched my father and mother die of disease. But yours is the death that stuck with me.”

“I’m alive, Jensen.” Jared’s fingers twitched and he wanted to reach out and touch. 

“My uncle let us believe you were dead,” Jensen said. “And then I saw you.”

“When you took me, you mean?” 

Jensen nodded. “He’d gotten over his pride and finally reached out to Joshua and I for aid.”

Jared swallowed. “My father’s arrogant, but not stupid. Our people were starving. He had no choice. But he told us you were coming to harrow us. To enslave the people. That’s why he rallied our army to attack.”

“I suppose he couldn’t get over his pride, after all.”

“You had no plans to harm our village?” Jared said.

“No. I came to help. I was going to kill my uncle for his betrayal—I’d waited years to do so—but I did plan to help your people. But when your uncle attacked, tried to steal the food we’d brought, kidnap our engineers and soldiers, I had no choice but to fight. Stupid really. Your village was more than outmatched. And when we were through, he practically threw you at me to keep himself alive.”

“You didn’t have to take me,” Jared said.

“I know. But I wanted you,” Jensen said. “I’m sorry. I saw you and knew who you were and I wanted you. You were mine to take. The treaties are still written. They are law, and my uncle is a traitor.”

“But what I want doesn’t matter?” Jared said. “Because of some deal our parents made years ago—parents whom I’ve never met—I’m supposed to accept that you took me from my village. From my family.

“They aren’t your family, and they were keeping you ignorant of your heritage. You were meant to be a prince, not a grasswalker.”

“You aren’t my family either. And if I was meant to be a prince, then this attack you say happened never would have happened in the first place.”

“Jared—”

“It makes no _sense_ ,” Jared said. “Why would they have kept me ignorant if what you’re saying is true?” Jared turned his face away from the king and willed his eyes to stay dry.

“Can you really not understand it?” Jensen said. “Why they would keep you ignorant? Yours has been a difficult life. Maybe a happy life, but not a comfortable one. A village outside of the protection of the kingdom struggles needlessly, and the man you call father forced that on you and your people when he killed your parents. You could have had better here. You are a good man, and I can see you are not the kind to choose comfort over happiness, but I’m sure they were afraid you’d be angry if you knew the truth, and that you’d try to leave to find what you’d been denied.”

“I wouldn’t have,” Jared whispered.

“They killed your parents,” Jensen said. “That has to anger you.”

“It should,” Jared agreed. “But it doesn’t. I didn’t know them. I know the mother and father who raised me.”

Jensen looked upset when Jared looked back at him. Jared watched him swallow before he spoke. “He was good to you?” he said.

No, he wasn’t. Jared loved his mother, his father, too, in a way; but his father was a mean son-of-a-bitch who’d kept a willow branch close at hand to use on Jared when he got out of line, which was often because Jared had always had more energy than was good for him. And he’d sold Jared with barely a moment’s thought.

Jared pulled his knees closer to his chest and stared down at the tops of them. They were skinned sore and red from kneeling on the stone floor in front of the king. “What am I supposed to do with all of this, Jensen?” He recognized the pleading tone in his voice but could do nothing to change it. 

“I don’t have any answers for you,” Jensen said. “I’m sorry.” 

“But you’re the _king_ ,” Jared insisted. He wanted it to mean something. He felt as if he were floating in very deep, very dark water, and his only way of staying above the surface long enough to find his way out was this man sitting beside him. 

“I’m only a man,” Jensen said. “You’re smart enough to know king doesn’t mean infallible. And maybe I made a mistake in taking you at all. The Northern Council thinks so. And you certainly don’t seem happier for it.”

“I’m glad to know the truth,” Jared said. “If nothing else, I’m glad of that.”

“You believe me, then?” Jensen said. He arched one eyebrow at Jared. 

Jared nodded slowly, not willing to fully commit. 

There was a knock at the door, then, and Jensen stood.

“Come in,” Jensen said. 

Jared scrambled behind the king to cover himself up.

“Privacy!” Jared said, but it was only Max, who’d already seen Jared naked, and though that didn’t completely remove the embarrassment, it did soothe it some. 

“The tailor has arrived, sire,” Max said. “To take Jared’s measurements.”

“Good,” Jensen said. “I’ll leave you to handle it.”

“Of course.” Max eyed Jared.

“You’re leaving?” Jared asked Jensen.

“You’ll see me this afternoon,” Jensen said. 

Jared wanted to protest. He didn’t want to spend another day alone. 

“I have duties to see to, Jared,” Jensen said. “You may attend me in the hall this afternoon if you wish, but it will be boring.”

“I don’t mind,” Jared said. 

The king nodded. “Then I will see you this afternoon.”

Jared watched Max warily after the king left. “You aren’t going to leave me naked again, are you?” he said. 

“I apologize for before,” Max said. Then he rolled his eyes. “Jensen says I can be petulant, and I suppose he’s right.”

“That’s not a compliment, you know. Children are petulant,” Jared said.

“Then I supposed it’s a word more fitting for you.” 

Jared felt surprisingly hurt by the words. “How old are you?” he said, to cover it. 

“Me?” Max looked surprised. “Why, I’m as old as the king.”

“You can’t be. You look…” Jared didn’t know how to finish the thought. Max looked sexless and showed none of the signs of age the harsh winds off the plains usually brought the people of this area.

Max sighed. “I am a gelding, Jared. It helps me look young. I am twenty-four winters, like the king. We were born on the same evening, in fact.”

“The king gelded you?” Jared whispered.

“Gods, you’re curious. Please Jared, get up. I need to bring the tailor in or the king will do worse to me.”

Jared didn’t move. 

“You can ask as many questions as you like while he’s working. I promise.”

Jared slid out of the bed and wrapped the blanket around himself while Max retrieved the tailor from the hall. 

The tailor barely acknowledged Jared. He placed a short pedestal in the center of the room, then grabbed Jared and pulled him toward it. Jared tried to pull away, lost his hold on his blanket, and by the time the tailor stopped, was standing naked in front of the man. He tried to cover himself.

The tailor shook his head. “Don’t be silly, boy. I have seen any number of naked slaves in my time.”

“He is no slave, sir,” Max said, appearing back into the room, “and the king would want you to be kind to him.”

“Would he now,” the tailor said, his voice flat. 

“Jared is shy,” Max said. “Come, Jared. It’s fine. He just needs to take your measure so he can find you something to wear this evening. Up on the pedestal with you.” 

Jared stood as still as possible while the man measured him in all sorts of uncomfortable ways. He tried to ignore his embarrassment and focused on Max. “You were going to tell me your story,” Jared said.

Max was lounging on the bed. He nodded as if it were no big deal the story he was about to tell, but he refused to look at Jared, and his face went all tight as if he were trying to hide some emotion.

“I was gelded by the former king,” he said. “I was meant to be a toy for Jensen, and though Old King Ackles technically had no problems with a man bedding a man, he was a traditionalist.”

“I don’t know much about Northern traditions,” Jared said.

“If it was to happen,” Max said, “it would happen in the traditional way: only one set of cock and balls in the mix.”

Jared stood silent for a moment as he took Max’s words in. The tailor looked at Max over his shoulder and shook his head before prompting Jared to lift his arms.

“Max?” Jared said eventually. He looked at the top of the tailor’s head, wondering if he should wait until they were in private, but he needed to know. “If I had…If my parents hadn’t been killed?” Jared said.

“He told you about that, did he?” Max said, raising an eyebrow. He looked at the tailor. “Are you through?” 

“Patience,” the tailor said.

Max rolled his eyes. “I have seen you work before,” he said. “You’re finished. You were not asked here to ogle the king’s boy.”

The tailor took a step back. He looked nervous, wringing his hands like a child caught with his fingers in the honey pot. “You won’t tell him?” he said. “Will you, Max?” 

“Just do your job. Have his clothes ready by the evening.”

“Of course,” the tailor said. He backed away and left. 

“I apologize for that,” Max said. “He’s a dirty old man and spends half his time in the brothels. Ask your question, Jared.”

Jared stepped off the pedestal. “May I have clothes,” he said. He felt suddenly dirty. He hoped he didn’t have to meet the tailor again any time soon.

Max handed him a shirt he’d had waiting. Another one of the king’s. Jared pulled it over his head, then reached for the pants. As he was lacing them, he tried again.

“So,” he said. “If Jensen and I had been betrothed, if things had gone as planned, would the king have…” he trailed off. He didn’t really want to finish the thought. 

“Yes,” Max said. He was looking at Jared with a mixture of pity and amusement. “Had you been raised as you were meant to be, you would have been gelded as a boy.”

Jared felt sick. “Why would someone do something like that?” he asked.

Max’s grin crooked a bit as if he were thinking. “Power,” he said. “Ownership.” He shrugged. “So the gods can’t punish you for marrying your son off to someone of the same sex.”

“Marriage between two men is an abomination,” Jared said. He swallowed around the tightness in his throat.

“Only stodgy old men think that anymore,” Max said. “Anyway. You have nothing to worry about. Jensen has no plans to alter you. A beautiful cock like that? He wouldn’t dare.” 

Jared nodded, his eyes on Max’s face, searching for the lie, but he seemed sincere despite the playful grin. 

“Let’s get you some breakfast, huh?” 

Jared nodded. 

***

Jared had breakfast in the kitchens again at what Max told him was the king’s table. Apparently, when Jensen’s meals did not involve official business, he took his meals here, usually with Jeffrey and Prince Joshua, though the cook Sam occasionally joined them if she was finished with her duties. Max was allowed the use of the table, as well, as his meal times did not usually coincide with the king’s or with the other slaves. He was the king’s body slave, but that apparently required many more duties than Jared would have expected. He seemed to be widely respected; if his interactions with the king’s guards and other slaves was any indication, he all but ran the household. The times the king did request his presence during meals, he knelt by the king’s side. Max told Jared he knelt for the king happily. 

Jared found himself watching Max carefully as they ate. And by the subtle tension in Max’s shoulders, he was aware of Jared’s attention. Jared knew it was rude to stare, but he couldn’t help it. He wondered if this was what Jensen wanted, if he wanted Jared to look like Max—as much girl as boy. He wondered if the king was still fucking Max even though he had Jared now. And Jared realized the roiling in his belly that accompanied that thought was jealousy, plain and simple. The king had called Jared _his_. He thought it was only fair if the king was Jared’s as well. 

“I’ve been stared at by men and women both,” Max said. “It’s sort of a perk of my position. But you, Jared, are different. You’re making me uncomfortable.”

“I’m sorry,” Jared said. “I don’t mean to.”

“Yes you do,” Max said. A wicked grin appeared on his face.

Jared looked away. 

Max sighed. He pushed back from the table. “I have work to do,” he said. 

He stood, finished his drink, and left.

Jared sat in silence and finished his food. He felt as if he couldn’t get a hold on anything here. He wondered if what Jensen told him was true, and what it would have been like to grow up in the citadel, or to grow up constantly traveling between the two halves of the kingdom, always knowing that his life was already planned out for him, that he would be married whether he wished it or not. Married to the king. Married to Jensen.

Jared thought he liked Jensen, but it didn’t seem to be a question of like or not. Jared had no choice. He could find Jensen reprehensible and he would still be here, still be sharing his bed. And Jeff had said that Jared _was a political matter_. He’d seemed to disapprove of Jensen fucking him. Jared felt weighed down by the many things that were happening here that he didn’t understand. 

He left the kitchens alone and wandered the halls of the castle. The castle seemed busier today as if everyone were readying themselves for some big event. There were slaves rushing about, carrying armloads of cloth, of food, of drink. There were guards here and there, and more than once, Jared had a door closed on him or was directed to go in another direction.

He found his way outside into a large courtyard. Though it was cold and he had to wrap his arms about his chest to keep from freezing, there was sun here, and Jared sat himself on one of the stone benches and tipped his face up, let himself spend some time there, soaking in the sun’s meager warmth and listening to calls in the distance of the king’s guard as they trained.

Just when Jared was cold enough he thought he would go inside, he heard someone clear his throat from beside him. He opened his eyes, startled. 

The man standing in front of him was tall and thin with heavy, greasy black hair and a heavy brown fur cloak about his shoulders. His skin looked almost sickly, yellow, and his nose hooked just at the tip.

“Should you be out here, boy?” the man said.

Jared stood. “I was just about to go back in,” he said.

“Were you now?” the man said. “Show some deference, boy. Haven’t you been taught to call your betters ‘sir’?”

Jared was about to respond when he heard his name called from across the courtyard. He looked, and Max was walking his way. 

“I apologize, sir,” Max said as he stepped up to Jared’s side. “The boy is new here. He meant no harm.” 

Jared looked between the man and Max, confused. Max would not meet the man’s eyes. 

“You should keep better control of the house slaves, Max,” the man said.

“Yes, sir,” Max said. “I apologize, sir.”

“Come,” Max said, tugging Jared’s arm. 

Jared followed. 

Max did not speak again until they’d made their way through the halls and into a side room that looked like nothing more than storage.

“You should not be outside alone,” Max said.

“Who was that man?” Jared said. 

“No one good,” Max said. “A member of the Council. He thought you were a slave.”

“Slaves aren’t allowed in the courtyard?”

“We aren’t allowed to idle,” Max said. “Unless that is one of the slave’s duties, in which case he or she should be idling by his or her master’s side.”

The words sounded rote, a lesson Max had been taught. “Why are you so nervous, Max?” Jared said. “There was no harm done.”

Max let out a breath. “If I’d found one of the king’s slaves idling and getting in the way of a councilman, I’d have beaten him and sent him back to work. You, though? I have no idea what to do with you.”

“Well I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here,” Jared said, the frustration evident in his voice. “The king has given me no instruction. You’ve given me no instruction. You both say I am not a slave, but the only time I’ve been of use is when the king has fucked me.”

If possible, Max turned even more pale than he already was. “He’s fucked you?” Max said.

“You didn’t know?” Jared said.

“I thought…” Max tugged at the ends of his hair and bit his lip. “I don’t know what I thought.” 

“You’re upset,” Jared said.

“No,” Max said. He blinked and fixed his eyes on Jared. Smiled. “No,” he said again. “I’m just surprised. He should have waited. I thought he had more patience than that.”

“What should he have waited for?” 

“Nothing,” Max said. “It doesn’t matter. Come. The king wants to see you in his study.”

***

When Jensen saw Jared, he smiled.

Jared smiled in return and felt truly calm for the first time that day. 

“Sit,” Jensen said. 

Jared sat in the chair Jensen had gestured toward and looked at the king across a wide oak table. He recognized this as the room he’d fallen asleep in the day before, the room he’d thought had been a library. It was thick with shelves weighted down with rows of books that looked heavily worn, and there were plush armchairs, even cozier than the ones in Jensen’s room, and fires burning in two separate grates, plus an entire row of windows that looked out over the city. They were high enough up that Jared could see the wall separating the city from the flat fields beyond. Jared thought he could very happily spend most of his days here in this room. 

“The tailor has finished your clothes,” Jensen said. “They’ve been brought to my chambers. Max will help you dress once we’re finished here.”

“Straight to business then?” Jared said. “I’m glad to see you, too.” 

The king’s face fell a bit. “I’m sorry, Jared,” he said. “I am glad to see you. But we have things to discuss.”

“It’s fine,” Jared said. “I was only teasing you.”

Jensen raised an eyebrow. “There are not many brave enough to tease their king.”

“I guess I’m just special, then,” Jared said. He grinned.

“I guess you are.” The king’s answering smile looked reluctant at best. Something was bothering the man. 

“Very well,” Jared said. “For what is Max helping me dress?”

“There is an important dinner tonight,” the king said. “We are joined by important people.”

“And I’m to attend?” Jared said. 

“Yes.” Jensen sighed and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. 

Jensen looked very tired, and Jared found himself wishing this day were over so he could help the king rest. 

“The Northern Council is not exactly happy that I’ve taken you,” Jensen went on. He looked a bit embarrassed, and Jared wondered what he’d been dealing with all morning, if he’d been in talks with council members trying to justify Jared’s presence in the castle. “They think having you here is a risk. I’d like to show them they’re wrong.”

“This is a Council dinner?” Jared said. He’d heard of such things. Though he’d not known his father was an Ackles, he had known he was Northern. The man had spoken of lavish meals in the Citadel’s great hall, had described foods Jared had never seen, had told how the king had had a whore for every man, and as Jared’s mind trailed to that thought, a nervous flip tickled his stomach. 

“What is my purpose at this dinner?” he said.

“I plan to present you,” Jensen said.

“As what?” Jared said, his voice tight.

“As my husband,” Jensen said.

Jared clenched the arms of his chair hard enough his fingertips turned white. “Your husband,” he said. He was barely able to force the words past the tightness in his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Jensen said. “This is my fault. I was too quick to bring you here. Jeff warned me and I didn’t listen.”

“What are you saying?”

“The Northern Council doesn’t trust you. They believe after growing up in the South with my uncle, you’ve been poisoned against the kingdom. They want to know you’re under my control.”

“And if I’m not?”

“They won’t let you live,” Jensen said. 

“But you’re the king,” Jared said. “Why does it matter what they say?”

“Your people have been too long removed from the kingdom,” Jensen said. “Things have changed. I’ve been working to unite the townships. I am king, Jared, but I am also merely head of the Council for the realm.”

“You would let them put me to death,” Jared whispered. He felt ill, and he wanted to lash out, but he only pressed himself further into his chair.

“No,” Jensen said. “No. I would die myself before that happened. I’ve only just found you. I’m not letting you go again. But this is the only way I can keep you safe. And I’m sorry, Jared, I am. Because you aren’t ready for marriage. You don’t even trust me. But my only other option, _your_ only other option, is slavery. That’s certainly what the council would prefer.”

“It’s slavery either way, though, isn’t it?” Jared said. “Marriage is no less permanent.” 

Jensen grimaced. “As my husband, you’d have power,” he said, his words quiet. “You’d have the freedom to do as you wish.”

“And as a slave?” Jared asked.

“You would live in the slave quarters. And you would come to me only when I called for you.” 

“As your whore.”

“I could put you to work in the kitchens. Or the fields. You are used to farm work.” When Jared said nothing, Jensen sighed. “I suppose I’m selfish to want to keep you,” he said. “Maybe you’d prefer death.” 

Jared shook his head. 

“You will have a good life. I’ll make sure of that. Whatever you want is yours.”

“Except my freedom,” Jared said.

“You will be a prince,” Jensen said.

“A prince under your control,” Jared said.

“Jared—”

“If you want to please the Northern Council,” Jared said. “You’ll have to show I’m controlled.”

“It would only be a show,” Jensen said.

“Would it?” Jared said. “Do you trust me enough to truly give me my freedom?”

“I would like to,” Jensen said. 

“But you don’t.”

“I can’t afford to,” Jensen said. “But with time, that will change.”

“What do you need me to do?” Jared said. 

Jensen examined Jared’s face for a minute that, to Jared, seemed endless. He finally nodded. “There will be a ceremony,” he said. “I will present you to the Council as my betrothed. I present you with a symbol that you are mine. There is a ritual to complete, then the Council will acknowledge the union.”

“Then I am your husband?” Jared said.

“Then you are my husband,” Jensen agreed.

***

Jared stood in the hallway with Max by his side. He could hear the noise of the hall before him—the dull roar of voices and laughter, of royalty greeting royalty—and he felt light headed at the sound of it; he felt as if his knees would buckle when he stepped forward to move into the din. 

“You’ll be fine, Jared,” Max said. He touched Jared lightly on the shoulder. “They will do nothing to you in the king’s presence. It is likely they’ve even brought gifts.”

“But?” Jared said.

Max smiled sadly. “This is not a game. Every member of the Council of the North will be present, as well as delegates from the East and West. If you are disobedient, if you seem at all disloyal to your king, Jensen will have no choice but to punish you publicly. He cannot show weakness in front of them. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Jared said.

“You are not of the court, so they will forgive errors of politeness. But not disobedience.”

“Please,” Jared said, his heart fluttering. “I understand.” 

Max had dressed him carefully that afternoon. He’d pulled Jared’s hair out of the loose tie that’d had been keeping the mess of it from his face and smoothed it with an oil that made it look soft and glossy. He was given a soft silk shirt, much finer than anything he’d ever worn, fitted perfectly to his body and open at the neck wide enough to show a hint of his collar bones and chest. Over it he wore a new vest, lighter weight than the leather he’d already been gifted, cut more for style than warmth. It was black embroidered with silver and open at the front, giving anyone who was curious a view of the tight cut of Jared’s trousers which left very little to the imagination. Jared had felt as if he were on display as he walked the halls of the castle. Before they’d left for the dinner, Max had traced kohl around Jared’s eyes and smudged it with his thumbs before applying a rouge to Jared’s lips. 

When Jared protested, Max shushed him. “It’s just to emphasize your pretty features. You won’t look painted. A person would need to look very closely to even notice.” 

But Jared felt the makeup on his face as if he were wearing a mask.

Jeff stepped into the hallway. “The king is ready for you.”

“Good luck,” Max said in his ear. 

Jeff led Jared into a hall that was every bit as lavish as his father’s stories had indicated. There were rich tapestries on every wall, threaded through with silver, and a chandelier as big as Jared’s room at home hung from the ceiling, burning with torches. The noise was tremendous—the most powerful men in the kingdom completely at ease—and Jared flushed as a few of them looked his way, their eyes crawling over his body.

Jared was dimly aware of Jensen at the head of the hall sitting in a chair carved of stone and ivory, an ornate, heavy-looking silver crown atop his head. He wore all black, a thick fur cloak that dragged the floor when he stood at Jared’s entrance. When they saw their king standing, the rest of the Council stood as well, watching carefully as Jared was led to the throne. 

When Jared reached him, Jensen took his hand. “Come, Jared,” he said, loud enough only Jared could hear. “Stand beside me.”

Jared took the two steps upward until he was beside Jensen. He turned and looked at the crowd of men. 

The hall was silent. 

“I’d like to present my husband,” Jensen said. “Jared Padalecki, Son of the Council of the South. He will take the name Ackles, and he will be afforded all the respect and protection that name commands.” 

The words had the feel of ceremony about them, and he shivered at the weight of the king’s hand against the nape of his neck.

The king turned toward Jared.

“Kneel,” he said.

Jared did as he was told, the weight of the king’s eyes and the eyes of the council heavy upon him, he looked up at Jensen, hoping for some sign of reassurance. Jensen smiled briefly, and Jared dragged in a shaky breath. 

A man in pure white robes stepped in front of the king. Jared thought he must be a priest of some sort. “Do you offer blood so that you might win the gods’ favor? So that this union might benefit the realm?” the priest said.

“I do,” Jensen said. He drew a dagger from the sheath at his wrist, gripped the blade with his hand and sliced cleanly, barely wincing. He held his hand palm up to show it to the room. 

He sheathed his dagger, then knelt before Jared. He pressed his bloody palm to Jared’s chest where the skin was bare. “This is my blood,” he said, his voice loud enough to be heard by the room, but intimate just the same. “I offer it to you as a symbol. You are mine to protect. I will always bleed before you. I would lay down my life for yours. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Jared said. 

The king’s next words were spoken more clearly, part of the ceremony. “Will you bleed for me as I have bled for you? Will you take my mark and become my husband?”

Jared nodded. 

“You must speak, boy,” the priest said. 

Jensen shot him an unhappy look, then turned back to Jared. “It’s okay,” he said. “Will you take my mark?”

“I—yes,” Jared said. “I will.”

Jensen nodded. The priest approached, and Jensen held Jared tightly by the shoulders, and all Jared could think was how the king’s blood would ruin his fine vest and tunic.

“This is going to hurt,” Jensen said.

“Sire?” Jared said, then the priest was behind him, tilting his head sideways, pulling his hair back from his ear. 

Max approached with a small tray of tools. He knelt beside Jared, and pulled a needle from the tray. “Hold still,” he instructed.

Jared winced as the needle was run through the cartilage at the top of his ear. Max used three separate needles for three separate holes, then he replaced the needles with a small bronzed cuff. 

“I want you to wear this,” Jensen said quietly. “Once set, it cannot be removed. I want everyone who looks at you to know to whom you belong.”

Jared reached up to touch, but Jensen grabbed his hand to stop him. “Not yet,” he said. “I have a gift for you.

Max handed the king another tray, and on this one were two small pieces of jewelry. Finely made bronzed wings attached to delicate bronze bars curved in “C”s. 

“These were my mother’s,” Jensen said. “She wore these instead of a crown. I’d like you to wear them now.”

Jared wasn’t sure what they were, but he nodded his head, and Jensen reached out, tilted Jared’s head, slid one of the cuffs on so that it nestled behind Jared’s ear. When Jensen moved to slide the other onto his pierced ear, Jared flinched away.

“I will be gentle,” Jensen said. Jared calmed, tilted his head for the king. When Jensen slid this one on, he slid the bar of it through the ring of Jared’s piercing. “You will remove this only when you bathe,” Jensen said. 

“Yes, sire,” Jared said.

“These are an Ackles heirloom,” Jensen told Jared. “I am giving them to you now as a symbol. We’re together in this, Jared. I take the word husband seriously.”

“As do I,” Jared said. 

He wanted the king to kiss him, but Jensen stood instead. He ran a hand through Jared’s hair. “Rise,” he said. 

Jared stood.

“This is him?” someone said. 

“Yes,” Jensen said. He turned toward the gathered men, touched Jared’s chin lightly, tilted his face up so the men could see. 

Jared had a moment of shame, of heat and fear that coursed through his body at the feel of so many eyes examining him and finding him wanting, but he made the decision right then and there to not let those eyes break him. He was the king’s husband now, carried his blood and his mark. He looked into the crowd, met the Council’s many eyes.

“He is defiant,” a man said, and Jared recognized him as the hook-nosed man he’d met earlier in the courtyard. 

“You expected me to take someone weak as my husband?” Jensen said. “He is proud, not defiant. And he is exactly as I wish him to be.”

“And you’re sure it’s him?” someone else asked. “The boy named in your father’s treaties?”

“If it isn’t, then there’s even less for you to fear,” Jensen said.

“True enough.”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s the same boy you were meant to marry years ago. He was raised as Jed Ackles’s son, and that’s all that matters,” the hook-nosed man said. “We’re supposed to accept a traitor’s son as our Prince?”

A murmur ran through the men as if they all agreed.

“It is done,” Jensen said. 

“And Jed won’t come for him?”

“He sold him to me,” Jensen said, his voice dismissive. “He doesn’t care about the boy.”

Jared had a moment to feel hurt by that, that the man he’d thought was his father cared so little for him, and that that fact was now known to the entire kingdom. But his thoughts were interrupted. 

“C’mon, Jenny,” a man to Jared’s right said. He was round and bearded, and close enough Jared could see the sweat on his brow and the flush on his cheek from the wine he’d been drinking. “Don’t you have enough pretty places to stick your cock? Why keep this one around? It’d be much safer to sell him to a slave trader.”

Jared didn’t have a chance to be embarrassed. Jensen had his hand around the man’s throat and his dagger pressed to the man’s heart before he’d even finished his sentence. Jared scrambled back to keep from being trampled.

“You’ll address me as ‘sire,’” Jensen said, “or the next time you visit my court, it will be as a corpse.” 

“Yes, sire,” the man said. 

Jensen backed away slowly. “I’ve had enough questioning of my motives,” he said to the room. “I wanted the boy, so I took him. He is no danger; I will make sure of it. Anyone who questions his validity as my husband will find their answers when I put their heads on pikes.”

No one else spoke, and Jared tried to relax. When Jensen sat back in his chair to watch the men of the council talk and eat, Jared didn’t even protest when he was made to kneel at Jensen’s side. 

“It is just for tonight, my husband,” Jensen said to him, calmer now. “I am having a chair carved for you.”

“As you wish, sire,” Jared said.

“Jared,” Jensen said. “Look at me.”

Jared looked up. 

Jensen didn’t say anything for a moment. He looked troubled. When he spoke, it wasn’t what Jared expected. “Are you hungry?” he said. 

Jared shook his head. 

“You’ve not eaten since breakfast,” Jensen said, his brows furrowed. 

“I’m too nervous,” Jared said. 

“I’ll have Max bring you a plate,” Jensen said.

“No,” Jared said. He grabbed the king’s arm before he could raise it. 

Jensen arched an eyebrow.

“Please, my king,” Jared said. “It’s a small freedom to afford me. I’d rather eat later, when there are not so many eyes watching my every move.”

Jensen nodded, though he looked even more concerned. 

“Would you like to go back to my chambers?”

Jared began to shake his head, but he was not needed here, and he could not settle in front of the council. “I would like that very much, sire,” Jared said.

“I’ll send for Max.”

“You can’t come?”

“I have duties here, my husband.” Jensen tilted Jared’s face up, kissed him right out in the open where everyone could see, and Jared wanted to be embarrassed, but he pressed into it, needing the contact.

When Jensen pulled away, he signaled for Max, and Max came. He accompanied Jared out of the hall.

Max was silent until they reached the king’s chambers, though Jared could sense he had something to say. At the king’s door, Jared sighed, exasperated. 

“What is it, Max?” he said.

“I’m sorry,” Max said.

Jared was surprised at that. “For what?” he said.

“I didn’t tell you what the ceremony was,” Max said. “I hurt you,” he reached up, touched Jared’s ear and the piercing there. The pain had dimmed to a dull ache, and the weight of the cuff felt heavy, permanent. 

“It’s fine,” Jared said. 

“I will make sure you have a salve to keep it clean,” Max said. 

“Thank you,” Jared said. 

Max gave him a wobbly smile. “I’m happy you’re here, Jared,” he said. “You make the king happy.”

“I don’t know about that,” Jared said.

“No,” Max said. “You do. But even if you didn’t…Well. I’d like to call you _friend_ ,” he said.

“Oh,” Jared said. He felt oddly touched. “Yes. Of course.”

Max reached out and gripped Jared’s bicep for a moment before turning and disappearing into the castle. 

***

Jared waited in the king’s chambers unsure of what to do with himself. He was brought a goblet of rich red wine and a plate of food—meat and bread, candied fruit and nuts—by a servant he did not recognize. When he tried to engage the girl in conversation, she blushed and ran out of the room. Jared set his plate down on the bed and sat beside it. He ate through the food slowly and drank all of the wine. Though it felt too heavy for his stomach, the alcohol warmed him through, made him feel pleasantly fuzzy and loose. When everything was gone, he stretched himself out over the king’s bed, his stomach full and his mind whirling.

He was the king’s husband now. He was Jared Ackles now. He didn’t feel any different, didn’t feel like a prince, like royalty. He felt like a kept boy. Like the king’s favorite dog waiting on his master to appear and show him affection. And he did want the king’s affection. As much as he wanted to deny it, he couldn’t; the memory of the king’s hand on his skin was right there, front and center in his thoughts, and he shivered thinking of it and wrapped himself in the king’s blanket. He fingered the delicate cuffs at his ears, tugged a bit at the sore one and winced at the ache. He thought he should be ashamed of himself. His father would be sickened to know what he’d become; but his father had given him over to this, so Jared wasn’t sure he cared what the man’s opinion would be, anyway.

Jared thought of the girls back home in his village. They were tough little things, skin tanned by the brutal Southern sun, hands and feet calloused from their work, from walking through the endless grasses and chalk soil, carrying water, food, and underneath their clothes, soft little breasts that Jared used to fall asleep at night dreaming of.

Jensen was nothing like these girls, with his pale northern skin and rough hands and broad chest, his voice rough like a sandal dragged through grit. Jared squeezed his cock through his trousers. It seemed lately it hardened at even the mildest thought of the king. 

Jared glanced at the door. He didn’t know when the king would be finished for the night. He slowly unlaced his trousers and freed himself from the leather. He stroked a hand up the length of his cock, pressing his face into the king’s blanket. 

When he heard the door open, his hand froze. He sat up slowly to meet the king’s gaze. 

“What did I tell you about touching that?” the king said.

“I’m sorry,” Jared said.

“Sorry?” Jensen said. He removed his heavy fur cape and draped it over one of the arm chairs. “It’s our wedding night. Surely you were planning to wait for me.” 

He stoked the fire in the grate. Jared watched him. He thought the sound of his heart beating must be audible in the silent room. 

The king approached. He stood above Jared, staring at his prone form. He reached, stroked his hand down Jared’s exposed cock. 

“So pretty,” he said. “I could stare at you for hours.”

Jared stretched a little, presenting his neck and spreading his legs, preening at those words, wanting Jensen to stare at him. The longer Jensen stared, the more Jared wanted. He felt suddenly as if he’d drank too much wine, drunk and loose and flushed, please to be where he was.

“That’s my boy,” Jensen said. 

He grabbed the hem of Jared’s shirt and tugged upwards, and Jared lifted, helping the king remove his clothes. When his shirt was gone, Jared pulled his own trousers free, lifting his hips and kicking his legs until they were gone while the king pulled off his own clothes. When they were both bare, the king moved onto the bed and between Jared’s legs. He pushed Jared’s legs up, displaying everything, and Jared was still new enough to this to be embarrassed. He hid his face in the king’s blanket, but the king coaxed him out until he was looking up and meeting the king’s eyes. 

“You’re perfect like this,” the king said. “So fucking perfect.” 

He stuck two fingers into his mouth, sucked until they were dripping wet, and Jared licked his lips wishing the king had let him do the job. The king went to work opening Jared up, adding an oil to make sure Jared’s passage was slick, and Jared keened, the burn almost too much. 

“When I look at you,” the king said. “I want like I’ve never wanted. I don’t care that I’m king.” 

He pressed against that spot inside of Jared that made Jared’s fingers and toes first go numb then shoot through with fire. His cock was so hard, Jared wanted to cry from the ache of it. 

“I don’t care that I’m king,” Jensen said again. “I look at you and I wish it was just you and I. That we lived a small life somewhere. Just the two of us.” 

He poured oil into his palm and slicked his cock then thrust home. Jared’s legs were against the king’s shoulders, his fingernails digging into the king’s back, and their eyes were locked.

“More,” Jared said. “Please.”

The king pulled out and thrust back in hard enough to move Jared further up the bed. He kept up with that pace until Jared let go completely, moaning and crying into the room, so close to coming it would have only taken a touch to his cock. He felt as if liquid were pooling at the base of his spine and low in his belly. He wanted the king’s mouth on him when he came.

“Kiss me,” Jared said. “Please. Husband.”

Jensen obliged. The kiss was awkward and messy, too much teeth, as they fought to meet and not lose their rhythm. When Jared came, his forehead was pressed to Jensen’s, his eyes clenched tight. Jensen came only moments later.

They lay like that for a long time, against each other, sweat and come cooling on their skin. They didn’t move until Jared began to shiver, then the king wrapped them together in his blanket. 

Jared couldn’t sleep, though. His body was tired, but his mind was a jumble of loosely formed thoughts; he had so many he couldn’t complete one without completing the other. Jared turned over, propped himself on his elbow and looked at the king. He was unsurprised to find Jensen awake as well. 

“What is it?” Jensen said. He reached up and brushed Jared’s hair from his eyes, danced his fingertips across his mark on Jared’s ear. 

“Did you mean what you said?” Jared said. “About us? About just wanting to live a small life somewhere?”

Jensen nodded. 

“I’m sorry you can’t have that,” Jared said. “Being king weighs on you.”

“There are many others who have it much worse.”

“Why is your brother not king?” Jared said. “Joshua? He is older than you, is he not?”

“My father did not think him capable,” Jensen said. 

“Would you have been happier had he been king?” 

“There’s no way of knowing that,” Jensen said.

“You don’t strike me as a happy man, my husband,” Jared said. He touched Jensen’s brows with his fingertips, gently, smoothing out the frown line between his eyes, then touched the corners where his eyes crinkled when he smiled. 

The king’s eyes fluttered shut. “I’m happy now,” he said. “I’m happy here with you.”

***

Jared woke to the press of the king’s lips against his forehead. 

“Did you sleep?” Jared said. He sat up on his elbows and blinked into the room. He smiled at his king.

“I slept,” Jensen said. “Don’t worry.” 

“You’re dressed,” Jared said. He tugged at Jensen’s shirt with a slight frown. 

“I have a meeting with the privy council,” Jensen said. “Stay in bed as long as you want. There is breakfast for you in the grate, and Max will draw you a bath when you’re through.”

“He doesn’t have to wait on me,” Jared said. “I’m more than capable of drawing my own bath water.”

“It is his job, Jared,” Jensen said. “Let him do it.”

Jared nodded. 

Jensen tugged on Jared’s hair with a fond look on his face. He kissed Jared on the lips. 

***

Jared let himself float in the bathwater. He’d already scrubbed completely clean, taking care especially to get the makeup from his face and the king’s come from his lower half. Max had taken his clothes and the ear cuffs from him then left him to it, and as Jared washed he thought about touching himself, images of the king’s hands and lips and face at the forefront of his mind, but he was good and waited. He thought if he waited, it would be even better later when he was with his husband. 

He was startled from his musings when the bathroom door burst open. Two men walked in. One was holding Max by the arm, his hand tight over Max’s mouth. Both men were hooded, their faces cloaked in shadow. 

Jared floundered in the bath, trying to find his feet, but before he could, one of the men gripped him by his upper arm and pulled him out of the water. Jared struggled, broke free of the man’s grasp, but slipped on the wet stone. He fell and all the breath was knocked from his lungs. 

The two hooded men dragged him to his feet. Max was lying unmoving in a corner of the small room, and Jared tried to call for him, but he was gagged with a ball of cloth before he could. The men pulled a rough tunic onto his still dripping wet body then tied his hands behind his back. He struggled as he regained his breath, but they were stronger than he, and when they pulled a hood over his head, he panicked, kicking his legs and screaming into the gag. 

“Fuck,” one of the men said. “He’s a determined little bastard.”

It was the last thing Jared heard before he was hit at the base of his skull and everything went dark.

***

When Jared woke, he was cold, so cold it froze the air in his lungs so that he had to fight for every breath. He woke gasping. He was chained to a wooden pole by a wide metal collar around his neck, and his hands were tied in front of him. He could barely feel his fingers; whether that was due to the cold or the tightness of the rope, he wasn’t sure.

He moaned and blinked into the weak sunlight. He was in a roughly dug pit, deep enough he didn’t think he could see over the top if he were to stand. There were more men in the pit with him, some chained to poles, others wandering with their hands tied in front of them. His head ached, and his stomach felt miserably empty as if it had been a long time since the breakfast he’d eaten in the king’s chamber. He wondered how long he’d been unconscious.

He was naked save for the rough tunic his captors had put him in, and he folded his limbs into his body as close as possible. His piercing, the king’s mark, was still there, and he found himself glad for that in a way he wouldn’t have expected. He rubbed at his chest with his tied hands, trying to warm his core, to get the blood circulating again. Some of the other men were looking at him, but they didn’t look interested, which Jared was grateful for. He hoped the king was looking for him. He wanted nothing more than to fold into the warmth of the king’s body. He wondered what would happen if he announced himself Prince and demanded to be released. He thought probably nothing good would come of it. 

Occasionally a guard would climb down the roughly built wooden steps leading into the pit, a fierce looking whip coiled at his belt, and drag one of the men out. Jared huddled in on himself, trying to look very small, which was quite a task for someone of his height. He didn’t know what the men were being taken for, but he knew it couldn’t be anything good. 

The day turned into night, and Jared wouldn’t have thought it possible that it could get much colder, but the night proved him wrong. He found it difficult to stay awake. His toes were as numb as his hands now, and he flexed them repeatedly, curling them into the frozen earth. The guard tossed him a cloak from above. Jared, surprised, pulled it to his chest, covered as much of himself as he could.

[Nu valorezi nimic mort,]() the guard said. Then he spit over the edge, catching Jared’s shoulder. [Mai am un cadou pentru tine.]()

Jared shook. He slept with his face buried in the cloak.

In the morning, three of the men were dead. Their frozen bodies were dragged from the pit. Jared felt hunger clawing at his insides. He slept again. 

When he blinked awake, it was to the guard unchaining him from the pole. It wasn’t the same guard as the night before. 

[Ridica-te!]() he said, tugging on the chain leading to Jared’s collar, but Jared’s legs didn’t want to work, and the man had to drag him to standing. [ Gata! Sprijina-te pe picioare,]() he said. He held Jared up by his shoulders.

“I don’t understand,” Jared said. He was surprised at how weak his voice sounded. 

The man shook his legs one at a time in demonstration. “Okay?” he said. “Legs?”

Jared tried to nod, and the guard smiled at him. “ _Ridica-te_ ,” he said again, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. “I take you up.” 

The man tugged at Jared’s collar, and Jared followed, afraid to do otherwise, but equally afraid of what was coming. There were two men talking in the distance, and the guard led him toward them. Jared tried to place where he was, but he knew almost nothing of the North. It looked like a small camp; grey, damp tents pitched and staked into the frozen ground, a few men huddled around small fires, eating a meat Jared didn’t recognize and drinking from clay cups. Jared’s stomach ached at the sight of the food. 

When the guard reached the two men, one of them grabbed Jared’s chin, tilted his face up. 

“Is this what you’re looking for?” the man said. “He’s young and healthy.”

“He’s very tan,” the other man said. He looked maybe forty summers old to Jared’s eye, a thick beard speckled grey and black covering a handsome but sad and lined face.

“Aye,” the first man said. “He was Southern born.”

“A grasswalker?”

“Raised on a farm. You won’t have to train him much at all.”

The other man moved toward Jared. He grabbed one of Jared’s biceps and squeezed.

Jared pulled away on instinct. “Don’t touch me,” he said. 

The guard acted immediately, tugging at Jared’s collar and knocking the back of his legs so that he fell to the ground in a crude kneel. The guard held Jared’s chin in one hand, the back of his head in the other, and Jared had the impression the man could snap his neck without a thought. He went very still.

“He’s not very obedient.”

“We have not had time to train him, but I assure you, any slave can be broken.”

“And if this one proves otherwise?” 

“Show me his body, and I’ll provide a refund.”

Jared’s heart quickened, and he struggled to breath through the guard’s hold on his throat. 

The man Jared could only guess was a slave trader turned to the guard. [ Tine-l bine, sa poata fi inspectat.]()

The guard’s grip tightened, and the other man squatted before Jared. He felt Jared’s biceps and chest, made the guard move his hand so that he could press his fingers below Jared’s chin and ears, feel Jared’s pulse. He stretched Jared’s bound arms before him and looked over his hands. 

“He’ll be big,” the man murmured. “He has growing yet to do.”

“Yes,” the slave trader said. “He is worth the money. You will get many years from him.”

Jared felt like a work horse. He didn’t want to cry in front of these men, so he hardened his face and looked into the distance. He tried to put himself somewhere else. He wanted to scream for Jensen. 

The man dug his thumbs into the hinges of Jared’s jaw, and Jared cried out as he opened his mouth and the man hooked a thumb over his bottom teeth so he could look inside. 

“He has good teeth.” The sad-faced man sounded surprised. “He has been well cared for.”

“I would sell nothing less,” the trader said.

“You sure he doesn’t already have an owner?” the man said. He thumbed Jared’s piercing, and Jared tried not to wince. “He is marked.” 

“He is not owned,” the trader said. “He has papers. We couldn’t remove the piercing. You could probably take his ear off if you’re worried about it.” He grinned and cackled, and Jared pressed his eyes shut. 

“Very well,” the man said, finally. “I’ll have his papers.” 

Jared was put in the back of his new master’s cart, his collar bolted to a side panel and his feet tied as tightly as his hands. His master wrapped him in a cloak first, gave him gloves and booted his feet before tying him down, and he left Jared with a hunk of bread and a pail of water, and Jared had never been more grateful to see food. 

As the cart pulled away from the camp, Jared held the bread in his hands and wondered how far away he was from Jensen. He wondered how much further he would have to go before he found him again.

 

Part IV

Jared washed the dirt from his hands. The basin of water had been set over a fire, and the warmth of it against his cold skin made him shiver in pleasure. He wished there were a basin large enough that he could submerge his entire body and let the warmth sink into his bones. He tried not to think of the king’s bathing chambers as he settled for splashing some of the water against his face and holding his hands there until his breath against his damp palms made him cold all over again.

“[Avem ceai](),” Katie said as she walked into the small kitchen. She had an empty roasting pan in her hands, and the smell of meat and vegetables followed, hanging in the air. She’d been serving the master his dinner. “[Si terciul inca este cald.]()”

“[Mersi](),” Jared said. 

He’d been a slave for almost four moons now, and the language of the North was coming to him a bit easier. Katie spoke Jared’s language, what the Northerners called the common tongue, as well, but she’d taken to speaking the Northern tongue as often as possible to help Jared learn. Though sometimes he wished he didn’t know so much. It was easier when he went to market to sell his master’s goods to not know what the old men who watched him, leering, said about him when he passed. How they called him _infidel_ , because of his Southern blood, and _curva frumusica_ , pretty whore. Boys his age were not usually bought only for farm work, and bed slaves were not well-respected. So the village talked.

Jared ladled himself a bowl of oats from the stove, poured a cup of the bitter _ceai_ made from the leaves that grew wild all over the Northern forests, and hunched over his dinner. The food was gone before he’d really filled his stomach.

Katie grabbed his bowl and gave him another ladle full. She sat at the table with her own.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Jared said.

She shrugged. “There is extra tonight.”

Jared ate this bowl more slowly. He ached from the cold and from the day’s work and was reluctant to finish and rush to his final duties for the night when he’d take the dogs out into the dark to do a final check of the wolf and fox traps at the perimeter of his master’s land.

Jared was no stranger to hard work, and in the time he’d been a slave, it had gotten a bit easier, his muscles filling out a little with every day that passed. But the cold was still a burden. Night was the most difficult. During the day, he had his work to keep him warm, planting in the master’s fields, caring for his animals. But it took hours to walk the perimeter, and by the time he made it back to his bed, he was usually so frozen through he could barely sleep. On more than one occasion, he’d considered sleeping right up against the stove that burned in the corner of the little room off the kitchen he and the master’s other two slaves slept in, but the one time he’d tried that, Chad had laughed and Katie had tutted and given Jared her extra blanket, the one she’d earned through hard work. He wouldn’t let her do that again.

After he finished his meal, Jared dressed in the heavy woolen cape that had once been his master’s and pulled the too-thin hood of his felted shirt up around his ears. He retrieved the blade he was allowed use of for this job from the weapons chest in his master’s sitting room. He felt his master’s eyes on him as he sheathed the blade at his belt; it was long and curved, like a scythe, and Jared had used it to cut more than one wolf’s throat since he’d been here. He wondered if his master worried Jared would turn the blade on him. Jared was taller than the man, and growing taller and stronger every day; it was a brave man who gave a slave like Jared a blade. But Jared had no intention to hurt him. He would not survive in the woods if he ran, and running would be his only choice save execution if he killed his master. 

“Jared,” his master said. 

Jared turned to him, surprised. His master rarely spoke to him now that Jared could perform his duties without instruction. 

“Yes, master?” Jared said. 

“The sky was heavy with clouds this afternoon,” he said. “If it rains, come back to the house. I’d rather you not freeze to death at the edge of the forest.” 

“Yes, master,” Jared said. 

It was not the first time the man had given Jared such instructions. He was strict, Jared’s master—Jared had received three beatings for disobedience his first week alone—but not unkind. He gave his slaves clothes, kept them fed regularly, and they did not fear sleeping in their beds at night. Jared knew he was lucky for a slave. But the man was still his master, and Jared had learned to be wary of him. Thinking his master was kind was the first mistake he’d made as a slave. He’d thought if he only reasoned with the man, he could be sent back to Jensen. His first night in the house, he’d told his master who he was, but his master had merely laughed, then he’d grown angry when Jared insisted and punished Jared by keeping him gagged for all but meal times until he’d learned not to tell lies. Jared still remembered the ache in his jaw, the humiliation of working next to the slaves while muzzled. He never brought it up again.

As Jared walked the fields to the perimeter, he looked toward the North. On very clear nights, he could see the lights of the capital city and the citadel above the forest’s trees. It was an hour’s ride by horse-drawn cart on the little road that skirted the forest to make it into the village that thrived on his master’s patronage, and Jared had heard it was half a day’s ride to the capital. On his worst nights, he imagined the citadel watched over him, that Jensen watched as he performed his duties. He imagined that when he finished up for the night, he would go home to his husband, that he would feel Jensen’s skin against his own, smell Jensen on his skin when he woke the next morning. 

Jared knew Jensen was looking for him. He wondered how long he would look, what it would take to make him give up. Jared had never learned who had taken him. He imagined his abduction was arranged by the Northern Council, but he couldn’t be sure. His master was an important man, and he’d had Councilmen visit. Jared recognized them, and he was sure they must have recognized him in return. If it had been the council who arranged his slavery, then they obviously had influence in places the king didn’t, which meant Jensen was in danger, which meant there was a chance Jared would never be found. Jared tried not to dwell on that possibility, but his time in the North had made him nothing if not a realist, and he knew that the chances he’d live out his life as a slave were great. 

Jared approached the first trap and drew his blade, but it was empty, its jaws still open and waiting for the next wayward wolf’s paw. The meat was missing, though—smart wolf—so Jared took a hunk of raw lamb from the pouch at his belt and placed it gingerly in the center of the trap. He shivered as he walked to the next and kept his eyes peeled for movement from the forest. 

The next trap held a wolf, its eyes glinting like fairy lights in the dark, its form a shadow against the tree line. It had been crying, licking at its trapped leg, too absorbed by pain to notice Jared’s approach. But Jared sighed when he saw it and cursed beneath his breath, and the animal stilled, a low growl rumbling from its belly to its throat and into the night. 

Jared ran the pad of his thumb from his forehead and down the bridge of his nose in a sign to the gods. He knelt in the wet grass and said a quick prayer. He hated this part of his duty. He knew it was necessary—the wolves snuck onto his master’s land and stole from his flocks of chicken, pigs, and sheep—but Jared hated feeling their warmth beneath his hands only to spill their blood at his feet. Wolves were good, cunning creatures. Pack creatures that cared for each other and that lived by the hunt. They were sacred in the South. The night hunters tracked by the stars where they believed the great wolf lived, watching over them. 

Once Jared’s prayer was said, he stood and walked around and behind the animal. He had to work quickly—even trapped and injured, it was still a threat. But he got the wolf pinned, wrapping a hand beneath the its jaw, its growl a vibration against his palm. Then, in one quick, clean movement, he slit the wolf’s throat. 

Jared made vague, soothing noises, as the wolf died in his hands, its blood warm against his skin. Once it was gone, he removed it from the trap and carried its carcass into the woods. He’d bury or burn it if he could, but he didn’t have the right tools, so he nestled it in amongst the leaves. Before he left, he removed one of its teeth, put it in the pouch at his belt.

By the time it began to rain, Jared was almost finished with his rounds, so he checked the last trap before heading back. He’d not had to use his blade again, and he was glad of it. 

In the slave quarters, Katie was already asleep on her mattress, curled snug to the stone wall, but Chad was awake and sitting next to the stove, smoking tobacco rolled loosely in brown paper. He picked tobacco from the tip of his tongue, watched Jared as he removed his cape and boots before sinking to his own mattress. 

“I could roll you some,” Chad offered.

Jared pulled his blanket around him and shivered. He held the wolf’s tooth in the palm of his hand. He had many of them now. A record of his time here. 

“The warmth of it would help,” Chad said.

“No,” Jared said. “Thank you. We have to be in town early tomorrow with the hogs; I should sleep.” 

Chad shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Jared lay back and rolled to face the wall. He hoped that if he dreamt that night, he’d dream of tired green eyes, of harsh commands softened with a kiss, of being wrapped in a bear skin blanket warm enough to keep out the cold.

***

The morning saw Jared and Chad leading the hogs up a ramp onto the master’s cart before the weak sun was even fully raised in the sky. Jared hooked the horse to the cart while Chad leaned against its wooden side and squinted into the sky. 

“Looks like it’ll keep raining,” Chad said. 

“I hate the rain,” Jared said. “To think I used to pray for it nightly.”

“It’s hard to imagine a place with such very little rain,” Chad said. “I’d like to travel South to see it.”

“You’ll have no chance of that,” Jared said.

“Your problem, Jared,” Chad said. “Is that you have no imagination. The king will make peace with the South and trade routes will open again some day.”

“And what then?” Jared said. “Your master has nothing to do with trade routes.” He pushed his hair behind his ears. It had grown out now from the cut Max had given him, and it was just long enough to be a hassle if not tied back. He tried to ignore thoughts of Max because they only led to thoughts of the king, which had no place for Jared in the light of day when he had nothing but his work and his fellow slaves and his master.

Chad waved a hand blithely through the air. 

“We have a long journey,” Jared said. “We should be off.” 

Chad was right about the rain. It started up again before long, and by the time the sun had risen fully, Jared was soaked and shivering hard enough he swore he could hear his bones knocking against one another. Chad took the reins from him and threw an extra horse blanket over his shoulders. 

“Princess,” Chad said.

“I’m not built for this kind of weather,” Jared said.

“You’ll adapt soon enough, or you’ll not last.”

Jared agreed with him on that, and he was about to say so when the cart gave a lurch and tilted to the side. The hogs squealed beneath their tarp, and Jared just barely kept from falling to the ground.

“Damn mud,” Chad said. “Hop down and see if we’re stuck, huh?”

Jared did. They were. The left back wheel had sunk straight into the mud road. They were lucky it was still in one piece. 

Chad hopped down beside Jared. “Master will be pissed if we don’t get these hogs to market.”

“He’ll be pissed if the cart is broken, as well.”

There was a spade in the cart, and Jared and Chad went to work taking turns digging. But the more they dug, the more difficult it became. They needed to dig a ditch around the wheel that sloped back up to the road so their horse could pull it free, but the mud was growing steadily more frozen, and the rain that pooled in the trench they dug froze as well. The exertion kept them warm at first, but after a time, even that couldn’t keep the freeze from their skin. Jared’s fingers were red and burned as if they’d been held too long over a flame. 

“Chad,” he said finally. He pressed the spade into the earth. “This isn’t working. We’ll need to walk back. It’s worth a beating if it means we don’t freeze to death.”

But Chad didn’t answer. He was looking up the road where a group of soldiers were riding on horseback toward them. They carried banners high above with the king’s coat of arms.

“The king’s guard,” Chad said. 

“Why would they be here?” Jared tried not to let hope get the best of him. He pushed his wet hood down and watched the distance. 

The guard was growing nearer, and Chad dropped to his knees, tugging on Jared’s arm until Jared dropped beside him. The cold seeped through the thin material of his trousers. Rain soaked his hair until water trailed down his neck and back. He shivered, but his only thought was of Jensen. If it was the king’s guard, then at the very least Jeff would be with them. 

The horses parted around them, the soldiers making their grim way through the rain paying two slaves no mind. Jared watched the horses’ hooves tromp and sink into the mud, the repetition of it calming him as he tried to find the courage to announce himself. He was afraid a twitchy soldier might put a blade to his throat if he went about it the wrong way.

When a “Halt!” was shouted, Jared felt Chad tense beside him, heard his muttered, “Shit.” He watched as a man jumped down from one of the two horses, watched as his booted feet came near. 

“Trouble?” the man said.

“Yes, sir,” Chad said.

“To whom do you belong?” the man said.

Jared recognized that voice. He tilted his head up to get a glimpse.

“Duke Winchester, Sir,” Chad said.

Jared saw recognition in Jeff’s face as he looked down at Jared, a moment of pause when the man didn’t know what to do. Then his face shuttered. He turned away. Jared watched as he made a gesture, and suddenly the other six men were jumping down from their horses, and Jared and Chad were ushered out of the way to stand shivering at the side of the road as the soldiers lifted and pushed the cart free of the mud.

“Thank you, sir,” Chad said. “Please, is there a way we can repay you?”

“That’s not necessary,” Jeff said. He was watching Jared, and Jared waited for some sign of what he should do. “This is no day for travel,” Jeff said. “Your master should not have sent you out.”

“They’ll be stuck again within moments, sir,” one of the soldiers said. “Our route passes Winchester land. We should bring them to their master; they can come for the cart later.”

Jeff nodded and began to turn away.

Jared broke. “Jeff!” he said. 

Jeff turned to him, an eyebrow arched in surprise. He did not look on Jared kindly. 

“Sir,” Jared said. He lowered his voice and his eyes, trying for respectful slave. “Please,” he said. “You know me.”

“Jared,” Chad hissed from beside him. “Forgive him, sir. He is newly a slave and has not yet learned his place.”

“No. He hasn’t,” Jeff said. “That much is clear.”

Jared was looking for the double meaning, some sign that Jeff was playing a role, that this was a show for his men. 

“I…” Jared said. He wiped rain from his face. “I apologize. I thought you were someone else.” He could hear the flat quality of his voice. There was a buzzing in his ears. This was his chance to get back to Jensen, and it was being taken from him. 

“We’re headed South,” Jeff said. “We’ll take you back to your master.”

“We’ll be beaten for losing the hogs,” Jared said.

“It is not worth freezing to death, slave,” Jeff said.

Jared felt so hopeless in that moment, he thought he might almost prefer it. He could just lie down in the mud, sink until he was part of the road, let the frost take him.

He gave Jeff one last, pleading look. And Jeff almost looked sorry. When he left Jared and Chad at their master’s gate, he looked at Jared one last time.

“You will be safe here,” he said.

Jared could only watch him ride away.

***

Jared and Chad’s incompetence had lost their master six hogs and a cart, which someone had stolen from the road despite the rain. They were both beaten with a leather strop that had seen the backs of many slaves in its time. The beating was bad, but Jared thought the after was worse. Because he and Chad were the only farm hands, they were made to work despite their wounds, pulling and tugging at the bruises with each movement, sweat stinging the few stripes that had opened and bled. While Chad complained of the pain, Jared stayed silent. His father would be proud. He’d learned silence after all. 

But Jared had also learned that silence was good for something. He could think when he was silent, slow down and take everything in his head, all that jumbled up mess, and sort through it, put each item into a neat little box so he could study it, find meaning in it. 

A week after he saw Jeff, Jared went to Katie.

“Slaves gossip, right?” he said. 

Katie was hanging laundry. The rains had stopped for now, and the field behind the kitchens was a small pool of sunlight. As Jared watched Katie work, he wished he could stretch himself out in the sun and watch her as he had his mother when he was a child too young to work with his father. But as it was, he’d be in trouble if the master caught him talking rather than working.

“Gossip?” Katie said. “Of course they do.” 

“So what they call me in the village,” Jared shuffled his feet a little and looked out at the forest. Katie knew what he meant, but that didn’t stop the embarrassment.

“Jared,” Katie said. “You’re not—”

“I know,” Jared said. “That’s not what this is about.”

“[Bine](),” she said, slowly. “What is this about, then?”

Katie looked at him curiously, those big hopeful blue eyes, the blonde hair and pale skin, pointed nose, every bit of her Northern. She liked Jared—a lot—and Jared wondered if maybe he could have liked her, too. If he’d never met Jensen, maybe this life would have been enough. But it wasn’t. She wasn’t. He wanted Jensen in a way he hadn’t even realized was possible until they’d been separated. 

“How far would that kind of gossip travel?” Jared said. 

“Well,” Katie said carefully. “Certainly all of the village slaves would know. Though they probably know the truth of you, too. That you’re more than a bed slave. Chad is a bit protective.”

Jared laughed. “I know. I never would have thought it.”

“He thinks of you like a younger brother,” she said. “You should be glad of it. He’s been a slave all his life. It is good to have someone like him on your side.”

Jared nodded. “I know,” he said. “I am. I’m glad to have both of you.”

She pulled a linen bed sheet from her basket and handed an edge to Jared. He helped her clip it to the line. 

“So?” she said. “What _is_ this about, then?”

“Slaves in the capital,” he said. “Would they hear the gossip?”

“Ours is a small village,” she said. “Master’s homestead is the only thing of note. I doubt our news would reach the capital. Unless of course Master were to take us there.”

“He goes into the capital?” Jared said.

“On Court duty, of course. He is a Duke.” She laughed and punched him lightly on the arm. “[Unde credeai ca se duce cand disparea mai multe zile la rand, prostutule]()?”

 

“I thought he…you know…” Jared made a gesture with his hand, circling his thumb and forefinger and poking a finger through the hole. “[Sa ne futem]().” Jared tried his best lewd smile and was pleased when she laughed again.

“ _O iubit_ , you mean? That he was going to see a mistress?”

“Yes,” Jared said. 

She shook her head, her face sad. “He does not fuck,” she said. “Not since Mistress Winchester died.”

“He fucks us,” Jared said.

“When he is desperate,” she said. “You cannot blame a man for his loneliness. And we, we are his.” 

_I am his_ , Max had said. 

“It is not the same as fucking a free man or woman,” Katie continued. 

“It should be,” Jared said. “Fucking is fucking.”

“No,” Katie said. “[Cateodata este iubire]().”

“A slave cannot be loved?” Jared said.

“Everyone can be loved,” Katie said. “But that is not why Master fucks you.”

“I have someone who loves me, you know,” Jared said, unable to stop the words. He didn’t like the time he spent in his master’s bed. He’d felt as if he’d been betraying Jensen, though he knew he’d had no choice. But Katie’s words made him feel a bit better. 

“[Oare]()?” Katie said. “She is from the South?”

Jared shook his head. 

Katie touched his arm, her grip light. She looked upwards, peering carefully at his face. He let her. “[Ce se intampla, frate]()?”

“This is not who I’m supposed to be,” Jared said. 

“No one wants slavery.”

Jared shook his head, but he said nothing else. 

Katie looked around her as if checking to make sure they were alone. She looked at Jared again. “Chad told me something,” she said. “He told me when you arrived…you told Master you were a Prince.”

Jared had felt silly calling himself that when he’d first been married. After months of slavery, he felt even worse. He twisted his lips, wry, and cleared his throat. “It was stupid of me,” he said. “I deserved to be muzzled.”

“Was it the truth?”

“Yes,” Jared said.

“Master takes me to Court with him sometimes,” she said. “As his handmaiden. The slaves there tell stories.”

“What kind of stories?” Jared said.

Katie hesitated.

“I have to know,” he said. “[Te implor]().” He touched Katie’s arm, as if that could somehow show her how much he needed this. 

Katie relented. “Stories of the king,” she said. “They say there is a boy he lost. They speak of him as if he is myth. _Baiatul Pierdut_ , they call him. The Lost Boy. They say the king found him for a brief time, but he let him slip through his fingers again.”

Jared was shaking. “He is my husband,” Jared said. “He didn’t lose me. I was taken from him.”

Katie’s eyes went very wide. She stepped back. “[Este adevarat]()?”

Jared nodded. “Please believe me,” he said. “Yes. _Este adevarat_. I have nothing else but that truth. “[Nu am nimic altceva]().”

“I believe you,” she said, her words slow, her eyes searching his face. 

“You can help me,” he said. 

“Jared…” She pulled her hood up around her head and shivered despite the sun. “[N-ar trebui sa vorbim unde ne aude oricine](),” she murmured. She looked back at him. “What is it you think I can do?”

“When do you go to Court again?”

“He doesn’t tell me in advance,” she said. “I am only told to ready his trunk the night before.”

Jared nodded, frowning in thought. “Do you know…there is a body slave named Max.”

“Oh, everyone knows Max,” she said. 

“Could you get a message to him?”

She began to shake her head.

“He knows me,” Jared said. “And he can tell the king where I am.”

“It is a punishable offence,” Katie said.

“I know,” Jared said.

“No,” she shook her head. “You don’t know. I don’t mean a beating. I mean punishment by the state. Slaves who betray their masters are rarely kept alive.”

“But you’d be helping the king.”

“According to you.”

“You said you believed me,” Jared said, desperate now. 

“Lower your voice,” she said. “I do believe you, Jared, but I don’t know the king’s mind. I know nothing of politics. If he wanted you with him, then why aren’t you there? What if your slavery was his doing?”

“No,” Jared said. “I am his.”

“Yes, Jared, but—”

“No,” he said. “I am not his slave; I am _his_. There is a _difference_. That _means_ something. It must.”

Katie looked like she wanted to cry. She was looking at him with pity.

“Just say you’ll consider it,” he said. 

“I will,” she said. “I will.”

***

Three moons passed. Jared’s master was not called to court. Neither Katie nor Jared brought up the subject again, though Jared caught Katie watching him more closely than usual as if the secret they shared weighed on her. 

The air finally began to warm a bit in the North’s version of a summer. Jared could work in his shirt sleeves now, and the soil was easier to till. Crops were growing in abundance, and Jared and Chad spent most of their days harvesting the fields and putting the surplus in storage for the next winter. Chad taught him how to shear sheep, and Katie began to make wool for new blankets and cloaks to sell at market and to store as well. 

Then Jared’s master called him to his bed chamber one night. 

Duke Winchester sat in an arm chair next to an open window that looked out onto the wheat fields. He was in his shirtsleeves smoking rolled tobacco and blowing the smoke out into the night. Jared stood in the doorway, hands behind his back, fighting to keep his eyes on the ground and loosing the battle. He’d never been good at feigned respect, and though he tried harder now, it was still a struggle. 

“You sent for me, Master,” Jared said, when the silence grew too long for him and his master’s eyes too heavy.

“Field work agrees with you, Jared,” his master said. “You’ve grown in the time you’ve spent here.”

“Yes, sir,” Jared said.

“How old are you now?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, ran a hand through his graying beard. 

“Almost seventeen summers, sir,” Jared said. 

“I’ve been pleased with your work.”

“Oh,” Jared said. “I mean…thank you, Master.”

The man sighed and sat back in his chair. He looked out across the fields. He said nothing for a long time. 

“I hear wolves at night,” the man said finally. “I can’t sleep for listening to their howling.”

“Sir?”

“Come, boy,” his master said. “I want you to suck my cock. It might help me sleep.”

Jared flushed and turned his eyes away, having no trouble with the task now. He went to his knees and crawled toward his master. He knelt between the man’s spread legs. As he closed his eyes and took his master’s cock into his mouth, felt his master’s hand against his hair, he tried to pretend it was Jensen. After his master had come, and Jared had swallowed his release as commanded, Jared was dismissed. When he’d gotten far enough away from his master’s chamber, he leaned against a wall, reached into his pants, and stroked himself until he came, his teeth buried in his own palm to keep himself from calling Jensen’s name.

***

His master was called to Court one week later. Jared hovered as Katie prepared the master’s trunk for him. He should not be inside, but their master had gone to the village, and Jared couldn’t help himself. Katie knew what he was after, but she wouldn’t put him out of his misery. When she closed the lid on the trunk, she turned to look at Jared, exasperated. 

“You should be working,” she said. She blew hair from her face.

“I know,” Jared said. “What have you decided, Katie? I need to know.”

She gave him a hard look, then poked him hard in the chest before relenting. “Come into the kitchen,” she said. 

Jared followed her. His palms were sweaty from nerves. In the kitchen, Chad was at the table, a hunk of bread hanging from his mouth, a cup of soup steaming in front of him.

“I see you found the food,” Katie said. 

He dropped the bread. “This was for us, right?”

“Yes,” she said. “Though you’re lucky.”

Chad shrugged and dug back in.

“Sit, Jared,” Katie said. “Eat.”

“Katie…”

“Sit,” she said. “Chad knows.”

“You told him?”

“I can’t believe _you_ didn’t tell me,” Chad said. He threw a hunk of bread at Jared’s head. Jared caught it and took a bite. “Hey!” Chad said. 

“Looks like I get two servings,” Jared said. He tossed Chad a grin. “I should get yours too for telling him,” he said, turning back to Katie.

She rolled her eyes. “I needed an opinion,” she said. “And you know you can trust him.”

Jared nodded. He looked down at his bread, his stomach squirming. “And?” he said.

“I’ll bring him a message.”

He grinned so wide it hurt. He jumped from the table and pulled Katie into a hug, burying her tiny form against his chest. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you thank you thank you.” He lifted her and spun her once, and she let out a shriek, giggled, then smacked his arm when he set her down. She was blushing.

“What should I do?” Jared said, practically bouncing in the middle of the kitchen. “Should I write something?”

“No!” they both said at once. 

Jared froze.

“No evidence,” Chad said. “You tell Katie what to say. _If_ she can get him alone and _if_ she thinks it’s safe, she’ll tell him.”

“Good,” Jared said. He sat again, feeling breathless. “Good.”

“I mean that, Katie,” Chad said. “It doesn’t feel safe, you don’t do it.”

Katie nodded, twisting her shirt in her hands. 

“What do I tell him?” Jared said.

Chad looked at Jared carefully, his whole face squinting as it did when he was troubled. “What do you expect to gain from this?” he said, finally. “Do you expect him to rescue you? Declare you as his husband again?”

“Yes,” Jared said. “That’s exactly what I expect.”

“Then you’re naive,” Chad said. “And you have too romantic a notion of the world.”

“He loves me,” Jared said. 

“Probably,” Chad said. “But this isn’t a summer tale, Jared. This is politics. The Northern Council does not like you.”

“How do you know about that?” Jared said.

“Because I’m smart,” Chad said. “Because I’ve been a slave for a long time. I _listen_ when I’m in the village. I know how to separate the truth from the lies. I believed you from the very moment you told Master who you are. And you knowing the name of that guardsman only confirmed it for me.

“The king is struggling. He has adversaries from all sides. They say the Northern Council has never thought him as strong as his father, and as far as they’re concerned, you prove that. For now they are the king’s allies, but they were teaching him a lesson in taking you. If he fights for you, they may openly become adversaries of the king. And I’ll tell you something, _frate_ ,” Chad said. “You got lucky they sold you into slavery. They could have killed you.”

“You act as if you agree with them,” Jared said.

“I don’t,” Chad said. “The king is doing good work, not that anyone would ask a lowly slave’s opinion.” He sighed. “I truly hope he fights for you, Jared. But it would smarter if he didn’t.”

“I have no power,” Jared said, “yet they act as if I’m out to take down the kingdom.”

“Is there a reason for that?” Chad said. “I assumed their dislike is because you are a grasswalker. A Southerner. Either that, or because you can produce no heir.”

“I am Southern,” he admitted. “But I was raised by Jed Ackles. I knew him by a different name, though.”

Both Katie and Chad looked suddenly uncomfortable. They both knew that name. Jared had learned quickly that everyone in the North did, just as he’d learned that _grasswalker_ was meant as an insult, that Northerners saw Southerners as savage, idiot tribesmen. 

“Jared,” Chad said, looking at Katie briefly. “Then of course they want you out of the way. If you’ve been poisoned by that man’s ideals, then you’re a threat so close to the king.”

“I’m no threat,” Jared said.

“At the very least you’re a threat to the Northern Council,” Chad said. “They gained power when the South was cut off from the kingdom. If the king unifies North and South again, they lose that power. They were afraid of unification long before your arrival, and you’ve brought all of that to their doorstep.” He whistled, low. “No wonder they want you gone.”

“Thanks,” Jared murmured.

“I’m not saying I agree with them,” Chad said. “I’d be happy if there were a pike at the citadel wall for the head of every single member of the Northern Council. And after this, there may be.”

“Chad,” Katie said, her voice made harsh by shock.

“What?” 

“That’s treason,” she said.

“It’s the damn truth. And you know every common person and slave wishes the same.”

“None of the Council’s decisions affect us,” Katie said.

“They affect our masters, which means they affect slaves,” Jared said. 

Chad slurped his soup, nodding.

“So what?” Jared said. “I just live out the rest of my life like this when I could have something better?”

“It’s not a terrible life,” Chad said, defensive. 

Jared nodded. “You’re right,” he said. “I’m being insensitive. What the two of you must think of me.”

“We don’t blame you,” Katie said, finally. “We have a good master, but neither one of us would turn down a chance to be free.”

“We’re getting ahead of ourselves,” Chad said.

“I will give the _eunuc_ your message, Jared,” Katie said. “For now, that is all we can do.” 

***

“Tell me about him,” Chad said. 

He and Jared had finished their day’s work, and there was no master to keep them from being lazy. The sun was low in the sky, a purple splash of color above the forest, and they were sitting in the grass sharing a roll of tobacco between them. 

“The king?” Jared said. 

Chad threw a clump of dirt at him, laughed as Jared shook it from his long hair. “Who else would I be asking about?”

Jared shrugged. “He is just…the king.”

“Insightful,” Chad said. 

Jared tackled Chad to the ground in retaliation, rubbing dirt into the wayward spikes of his straw colored hair. Chad was proud of that hair.

Chad pushed him off and sat up looking mussed and squinting in Jared’s direction. “I’m blaming you when I use all of Master’s bath soaps.”

Jared snorted a laugh.

“I’m serious, though,” Chad said, when they’d settled. “I mean…the _king_ , you know?”

“I know,” Jared said. He thought for a moment, fiddling a piece of straw between his fingers. Then, “He is confusing. Sad. He doesn’t sleep enough. He cares too much about everything. Including me.”

“The girls say he is beautiful,” Chad said.

“And you suddenly care about that?” Jared said, grinning. “He looks nothing like Katie.”

“Shut up,” Chad said.

Jared laughed. “The king _is_ very handsome,” he said, finally. “He’s seen too much to be beautiful, though.”

“He fucks you?” 

“I am his husband.”

Chad looked confused by that. He looked up at the sun.

“It’s not like being fucked by Master,” Jared said. “The king cares about my pleasure.” 

“It is still fucking,” Chad said.

“It is love,” Jared said, echoing Katie’s words.

“And you see a difference?”

“Now I do,” Jared said. “I was confused at first. He’d taken me from my home, and in the South it is not accepted, a man bedding another man. But I wanted him from the beginning. I see that now. I wish I had told him that before I was taken.”

“He didn’t know?” Chad said.

“Neither one of us did,” Jared said. 

“And how you feel for him now, it’s not just…” Chad twisted his mouth in thought. “Nostalgia?”

“Nostalgia?”

“Maybe that’s not correct… _Saudade_ ,” he said. “You yearn for a happier time. Maybe even something that does not really exist.”

Jared thought about that for a moment, running his fingers through the dirt. “Maybe,” he said, finally. “But there’s no way to know. Not unless I see him again.”

“Well,” Chad said. “Perhaps you’ll have that chance.”

“Do you really believe that?” Jared said. 

“I don’t know,” Chad said. 

“I could leave,” Jared said. “Right now. I could walk away from all of this while Master is away.”

“You could,” Chad said. “But how would you get to him? Walk? Anyone in the village would know you, and the forest is not safe.”

“I can’t stand this.”

“Have patience,” Chad said. He rolled his eyes, grinned. “Gods. You’re like a child.”

There was a sound in the forest then, and Jared and Chad both went still. 

“A wolf?” Chad asked, his voice quiet.

“Maybe,” Jared murmured. 

They both stood and began to back slowly from the tree line. The dogs were in the house. So was their master’s blade, though Jared had a short handled hatchet at his belt that he wasn’t sure would do him much good if it came to that. 

“It will be stopped by the traps,” Chad said.

“Should be,” Jared said. 

They heard the noise again, the snap of a twig, the rustle of a leaf. It was unusual for a wolf to come so close with the sun still so visible. Then Jared heard a cough and became even more tense.

“Show yourself,” Jared said. “You’re trespassing on Winchester land.”

“Jared?” 

Jared and Chad looked at each other. The voice sounded close, unsure. 

“Is that you?”

A face peeked out from behind a tree. The man was thin, his skin grimed with dirt and tree sap. His blonde hair was shorn almost to the scalp.

“Max?” Jared said. “Where did you come from?”

Max grinned. He began to walk toward them.

“Stop!” Chad said.

Max stopped instantly.

“The traps,” Chad said to Jared. “You know him?”

Jared nodded. 

“Max,” Jared called. “Come to us slowly and watch your step. There are wolf traps all along the tree line.”

Max nodded and tiptoed toward them, looking down at his feet. Jared took the time to study him. He was not just thin, but boney, his collar bones jutting from beneath the neckline of a rough brown tunic much like the one Jared himself had been made to wear when he was kidnapped. The tunic was short, barely covering Max’s shorn crotch, and his legs were skeletal with cuts, some beginning to heal and some bleeding freely, dotting the skin. When Max made it past the traps, he smiled at Jared, and his skin was too tight on his face, all cheek bone and big blue eyes. Patches of his scalp were completely bare of hair and scabbed over.

Jared stepped toward him. “What happened to you?” he said, his voice low. 

Max flinched. He looked away from Jared and straightened his tunic, tried to wipe a smear of dirt from his forearm with his thumb.

“Jared,” Chad said. “We should take him inside.”

“It’s okay, Max,” Jared said. “Come with us. Our master is not home.”

“I know,” Max said. “I’ve come from the capital.”

“There will be time for talk later,” Chad said. “Inside.”

***

Max was ravenous. He sat at the table and gnawed pheasant meat straight from the bone, completely graceless, completely unlike the Max Jared remembered. When Jared placed a mug of cool water on the table, Max drank it down in one go, his gulps loud in the silent room. Jared had many questions, but from the look of him, Max deserved to be let alone while he ate and rested. He kept flicking furtive glances in Jared’s direction, and any time either Jared or Chad came close, he flinched, just a little, but enough for Jared to notice. 

Chad looked concerned, but he stayed as silent as Jared.

Finally, Max pushed his plate away, leaned back in his chair, and belched. Then he covered his mouth with his hand and looked up at Jared and Chad, embarrassed.

Max cleared his throat. “You look good, Jared,” he said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “You’ve grown.”

“And you look terrible,” Jared said. 

Max touched a hand self-consciously to his scalp, his fingers spider-like against the patchy mess of his hair. “I didn’t think how I must look to you,” he said. “I’ve gotten used to it.”

“Max,” Jared said. “What happened? How did you get here? The king would not have done this to you.”

“No,” Max said. “The king is no longer welcome in the capital.”

“What?” Jared said.

Beside him, Chad stood quickly enough he knocked his chair over. He pushed his hands through his hair.

“He left. With an army,” Max said. He sipped his water. “He sent Jeffrey to the South with his guard, and the king went west. When you were taken, he suspected certain members of the Northern Council, but he couldn’t be certain it hadn’t been your father. He did everything he could for information. When he heard word you were being kept in the Western townships, he went after you. I reckon he was misled, though, given you were apparently right under his nose. You’ve been here the whole time?”

“Yes,” Jared said.

Max nodded. He cleared his throat. “Anyway, as soon as the king left, the Northern Council took the citadel.”

“But the king has an army,” Chad said.

“The Northern Council has one, too,” Max said. “And they are aided by the South. Jed Ackles is at the citadel. The king was almost right. They were working together.”

“But they were afraid of my father,” Jared said. “That’s why they wanted me out of the way.”

“Turns out, Jared,” Max said. “You were the answer to all the Northern Council’s prayers. The perfect distraction for the king. None of this would have happened had he never brought you home with him.”

“I didn’t ask for him to take me,” Jared said. 

“I know,” Max said. He sighed, long and weary, and leaned against the table. “I’m sorry. I don’t blame you. No more than I blame the king.”

“You should blame the king,” Chad said. “If he wasn’t being led by his dick, he would have never left the citadel.”

Jared stood and shoved Chad across the kitchen. Chad looked back at him, stunned. 

“You know nothing about it,” Jared said.

“He is _King_ , Jared,” Chad said. “He does not have the luxury of acting like some love sick child. It’s all very romantic, you and him, but look where it got the both of you. And now the entirety of the North will suffer because of it. Do you think the Northern Council cares about the people? They care about power. Nothing more. When the king left the capital, he left us all in his wake and thought nothing of it.”

“No,” Max said. “Look. I’m furious with the king. You have no idea what my life has been like since he left. But he thought he was doing the right thing. He was trying to take out threats on all sides. He went West because of Jared, sure, but this is not the first time he’s left the capital for battle. He had no reason to believe the citadel would be in danger. He didn’t know how deep the betrayal went.”

“How did you get here, Max?” Jared said. 

“I ran,” Max said. “Your girl, Katie, she gave me your message. I left in the night.”

“You walked? All the way through the forest?” Jared said.

Max nodded.

“You know what they do to runaway slaves,” Chad said.

“Those men are not my masters,” Max said, suddenly furious. “The king is.”

“Max,” Jared said. “I saw Jeff when he was traveling South with the guard. He looked at me as if he didn’t know me.”

“Communication was difficult after you were taken,” Max said. “He would not have been able to tell the king he’d found you.”

“He could have taken me with him.”

“No. He would not have taken you South and into battle,” Max said, slowly, as if he were thinking it through. “It is likely he thought you were safe and planned to tell the king upon his return.”

“Or he betrayed the king,” Chad said.

“No,” Max said. “He would not have done that.”

“So what now?” Jared said. 

“I’ve heard rumor that Jeffrey’s camp is not far South of here,” Max said. “I was planning to try to get to him even before I learned where you were.”

“Good,” Jared said. “Then we leave at first light.”

“No,” Max said. “Tonight. We need the moon’s cover.” 

“Are you both insane?” Chad said. “We are slaves. If we’re caught—”

“If we’re caught, nothing,” Jared said. “I have no choice. I have to get back to Jensen.”

“Jared…” Chad sighed. He slumped into a chair, and leveled a look at Jared that Jared had a difficult time reading. “When Master comes home,” he said, “and you’re not here? He will believe I helped you escape, whether I did or not.”

“Then come with us,” Max said. 

“The two of you are fools,” Chad said. 

“War is ravaging the land,” Max said. “You will need to pick a side. And believe me—those who have taken power are not friendly to slaves. But the king will take you in. He will be good to you.”

“If we can even find him,” Chad said.

“We will,” Jared said. And Jared felt a buzzing under his skin at that thought. His heart was working double time in his chest. 

“No,” Chad said. “I won’t come. I wish you well, Jared. I do. And I will not tell Master of your plans. You have my word on that. I will tell him you ran in the night while I was sleeping.”

“Why would you stay?” Max said. “Are you so loyal?”

“Katie,” Jared said. “You’re staying for Katie.”

Chad nodded. “I won’t leave her here.”

Jared gripped Chad’s shoulder. 

“Jared,” Max said. “If you are coming with me, we should leave now. And we should take whatever food and supplies we can. I was not able to take anything when I left the citadel.”

“Yes,” Jared said. “Of course.”

“I’ll help you,” Chad said.

“You don’t have to,” Jared said. 

“Nonsense.”

They worked quickly, packing a small amount food and bladders of water and tea. Jared took his master’s blade as well as a dagger and a hunting bow. If they ran out of bread and dried meat, Jared should be able to hunt a little. He also gave Max a small blade, though Max looked nervous holding it, and Jared was reminded that Max had been raised for the bedchamber; he was likely unfamiliar with blades. 

Jared found Max some clothes and boots so he’d be better prepared for travel. Before Max dressed, Jared made him clean his legs and feet and rub ointment into the lacerations he’d received from his trek through the woods. One cut on the sole of his foot looked particularly bad, and Jared winced in sympathy while he watched Max work.

“Will you be able to walk much further?” Jared said, watching Max press a clean cloth to the wound.

“I don’t have much choice,” Max said. 

Jared nodded, feeling grim. He wanted very badly to see his king again, and he hadn’t let go of the hope he’d felt since sending Katie off with his message. But the track ahead of him and Max would be difficult, and if the rumors Max had heard about Jeff’s camp were wrong, then they’d be traveling with no end in sight. 

They set off when the moon was high. 

[Ai grija, frate](),” Chad said.

Jared nodded. He smiled a little. “[Si tu](),” he said. Then, unable to help himself, he pulled Chad into a hug. “Thank you,” he said. “For everything. I would not have survived these last months if not for you.”

Chad pulled out of the hug and shrugged awkwardly, though he looked pleased. “Just repay me by taking care of yourself.”

“I will,” Jared said.

 

Part V

They walked South-East, moving as quickly as possible across the Kingsroad and into the prairielands. Max limped, but waved Jared off when he showed concern. The air felt charged, as if the buzzing inside of Jared were seeping out and affecting everything around him, as if the long grasses caught Jared’s thoughts and whispered with them. He felt at home like this, the sky above him and only the grass for cover, and were it not for the slight chill in the night air and Max walking beside him, Jared could be South again, out with a hunting party in search for food. 

The two stayed silent for some time. Though Jared was dying to question Max about everything that had happened in the more than six moons since they’d last seen each other, his newly learned patience kept him silent. If Max wanted to talk, he would talk. 

And eventually he did talk, though the conversation was not what Jared expected. When they rested the first day, Jared took first watch, and he pulled out the necklace he’d been making the king, the wolves teeth he’d collected woven together with a thin felt cording he’d scrounged from Katie. He felt Max watching him work, and he thought, not for the first time, that his gift was hardly fitting for a king. It was all he had to give, though, and he wanted to give Jensen something to show him he’d never been far from Jared’s thoughts. 

“You’re anxious to see the king, then?” Max finally said, as if picking up a conversation that had already been started.

“Yes,” Jared said. 

“I’m surprised,” Max said. “I did not have the impression you liked him particularly.”

“He is my husband,” Jared explained for what felt to him like the millionth time. 

Max snorted, the expression that followed ugly on his too thin face. “Cut the shit, Jared,” he said. “You weren’t exactly pleased to be marrying him.”

“No,” Jared said. “But I’ve had a lot of time to think since I’ve been made a slave.”

“And being a prince is better than being a slave?” Max said. “Took you long enough to figure it out.”

“It’s not that,” Jared said. He wrapped the necklace around his hand, closed his fist around the sharp points of the wolves’ teeth. He tried to explain. “As a slave,” he said, “my life is not much different than it was back home. In the South, I mean. I do much of the same work, and my father—Jed Ackles, I guess—he was not kind.”

Max nodded. “And your master?”

Jared shrugged. “I guess I could have had it worse.”

“Jensen will be happy to hear he was kind to you,” Max said. “When he didn’t know where you were, he imagined the worst.”

“I fear the king will be displeased with me,” Jared said, his voice quiet. 

Max said nothing, but when Jared glanced at him, he could see he was listening.

“My master…” Jared said. He swallowed, feeling sick suddenly. He’d not voiced these fears before. He hadn’t even realized he had them until the prospect of seeing the king again became real. “I have not been able to remain untouched,” he said finally. 

Max touched Jared lightly on the forearm. “Of course not,” he said. “It’s not as if you had a choice.”

“I should have fought harder,” Jared said. “I should have done everything I could. He is my husband. I should not have let someone else touch me.” 

“You’d have been beaten or worse had you not given Winchester what he wanted,” Max said. “Then he would have taken it anyway. The king is not naïve. He will not blame you.” 

Jared nodded. 

“I love him,” he said after they’d both been silent for a time. “I don’t know when that happened.”

“He was your first,” Max said. “We all love our firsts.”

“He was your first, too,” Jared said. “Was he not?”

Max merely looked at him, his face strangely blank. 

Jared nodded and went back to working on his gift. He decided there were some things it was better not to know.

***

For five nights, Jared and Max walked. During the day, they bedded down under what little cover they could find in the prairie grass. One took watch; one slept. They saw very few people. Each night, Max’s feet looked a little worse for wear, and Jared began to worry about him. Some of the deepest lacerations seemed infected, and though Max did not complain, he walked with a terrible limp that slowed their travel more than either of them was comfortable with. 

On the sixth night, Max became feverish. They stopped to rest before the sun could show its face.

Jared used some of their dwindling water supply to clean the wounds on Max’s feet. Max had not let him do much for the wounds before for fear of running out of water, but now, with Max too sick with fever to protest, his face milk pale but for the splotches of pink fever in his cheeks, Jared scrubbed Max’s feet until they were clean and Max was moaning from the pain. There were two lacerations that had yet to heal on Max’s left foot; they were an angry red, the skin around them tight and shiny, and the red was spreading outwardly across the sole. Jared had seen men die of infected blood from minor wounds. Jared knew infection. 

“Max,” he said. “Max…”

Max looked at him, sweat on his upper lip and his shorn scalp. His lips twisted, pain and cynicism both, making him ugly, sad. 

“Fuck,” Max said. “To die from a cut on the foot.” He laughed harshly.

“Hush,” Jared said. “You are not going to die.”

Max moaned and rolled over, pulling his foot from Jared’s grasp. “I feel like I’m going to die.”

“There will be medicines at camp,” Jared said. 

“That would be fine,” Max said, “if I could walk.” 

“You just need a day’s rest,” Jared said. “We will try again when the sun falls.”

“The infection will only spread.”

“No,” Jared said.

“Stop it,” Max said. “Jared, stop.”

Jared felt himself begin to cry, and he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, hard, refusing to let it go.

Max slept fitfully, curled into a ball in the grass, and Jared sat watch over him. Just as the sun rose, he woke, vomiting, complaining of chills, and sweating straight through his clothes. His entire foot was an angry red, the skin around the wound and up into his heel and ankle tight and swollen. 

“Fucking gods,” he moaned. He tilted his head back and stared up at the sky.

“Tell me what to do,” Jared whispered.

“Nothing,” Max said. “You can do nothing. I’m going to die in this field and the carrion birds are going to take my body.”

Jared stood and walked away. He pressed his hand to his mouth and screamed into his palm. He screamed and screamed, then he went to his knees and prayed to gods he’d stopped believing in the first time his father had beaten him bloody. 

He was terrified. And he was selfish enough to admit to himself that he didn’t want Max to die because the source of that terror was the thought of being alone. But he’d come to care for Max, too, and it wasn’t fair that he had to lose him so soon. Just like he’d lost his family. Like he’d lost Jensen. And it wasn’t fair for Max to have to die here with no one there for him but Jared, who’d never felt more like a child than he did in that moment. 

When Jared had pulled himself together, he walked back to Max and sat down beside him. 

“I’m sorry,” Max said. “I should have left you there.”

“No,” Jared said. “I wouldn’t have let you. Besides, it is not too late. We will find Jeffrey’s camp.”

“You will,” Max said. “You need to leave me. Keep going.”

“No,” Jared said.

Max sighed. 

“No,” Jared said again. “It is not up for discussion.”

“All right,” Max said. Then quieter, “Thank you.”

***

It took three days for Max to die. Once, Jared believed he saw a horse on the horizon, and he went toward it, willing to risk capture if it meant saving Max. But there was no horse. And there was no saving his friend. 

When Max finally let go, Jared screamed into his face—“It’s not fucking fair!” he said, grabbing his body by the shoulders and shaking it. When there was no response, he sat in the grass—cross-legged, his arms wrapped against his stomach—and he sobbed. When he finished, he looked around him, his throat hoarse, his face puffy, his entire body aching. He could keep going South, or he could go back to his master and hope he would be merciful. 

He had nothing with which to bury Max, and no means of starting a fire to burn his body. He folded Max’s hands over his chest and straightened his feet; he covered him with the little clothing he had packed and weighed the cloth down with rocks. He hoped, if he found Jeffrey’s camp, he could come back to claim Max’s body, but he doubted it. So he gave Max the only ceremony he could. 

He sat next to Max’s body throughout the day watching a buzzard circle the sky; when the moon rose again, he kept walking. 

***

On his second night alone, Jared heard voices. 

He crouched, hiding his too tall form in the long grass as best he could. It was a dark night, but not dark enough. When the men came near, he could see them too clearly. If he could see them, they would see him.

He went to his stomach, concentrating as hard as he could on staying still and listening. If they were Jeffrey’s men, then he could be safe. But Jeffrey’s men or no, this was a time of war, and he did not trust them to not kill him on sight. 

The men finally stopped, and Jared could smell the smoke of their tobacco. Their talk seemed casual, from the little Jared could make out. He went slowly to his hands and knees and peered at them. They were turned away, and Jared silently thanked whoever might be listening for that small gift. He was tired and hungry, and had they seen him, he wasn’t sure he would have had the strength to run. 

He could just barely make out the king’s coat of arms on one of the men’s tunics, and Jared felt faint with relief. When the men finished their smoking, they began to walk away, and Jared crept through the grass after them. 

What he saw astonished him. He’d seen Jeffrey with the seven men that made up the king’s guard, but what he saw ahead of him was the vast camp ground of an army, the king’s banner flown high above many of the tents. There was quiet talk and laughter, but it seemed many of the men were inside their tents, asleep.

Jared felt that flutter of hope in his chest again. This was the king’s army. This was _Jensen’s_ army. Jensen could be here, and Jared could either skulk in the grass, too afraid to move, or he could walk up to the camp and find his husband. Despite the danger, he chose the latter. 

He stood and walked toward the camp. He took a moment to be surprised at how long it took the men to notice him, but when the few men around the campfires turned to face him, Jared dropped to his knees, tried to show he wasn’t a threat. He held his hands up to show they were empty. 

The men stood and looked at him. There were about six or seven who had been sitting watch around the fire, and they looked at him curiously, blades held at their sides.

“And who do we have here?” one of the men said. 

Jared cast his eyes toward the ground. “Please,” he said. “I am looking for the king’s advisor. I am looking for Sir Jeffrey Morgan.”

One of the men laughed. “Are you now, little slave?” he said. 

“Where did he come from?” another said.

“Pretty,” another said. “It’s not often something as pretty as this drops into our laps.”

“I bet you’d love it if he dropped in your lap.”

The men laughed and Jared flinched. He was beginning to regret his bravery when one of the men grabbed him by the chin and tilted his face up. The man did not look amused.

“[Te cunosc](),” he said. With his other hand, he touched the piercing on Jared’s ear, then he let go of Jared’s face as if he’d been burned. “Marcus,” he said, “[Aduceti-l pe rege]().”

Jared stayed on his knees, very still. The men had fallen silent around him, but he refused to look up. After a few moments, the men started to spread out, making room.

“Jared?” 

Jared looked up to where the king was standing, watching him as if unsure. When the king saw his face, he rushed to Jared, grabbed him by the shoulders, and hauled him upwards. 

“It’s you,” Jensen said.

Jared nodded, staring at his king’s face. He looked too tired, and he wore a full beard, his hair too long and just beginning to curl at the ears. But he was grinning, a huge grin that Jared had never seen before, and Jared noted absently that at some point, he’d grown taller than the king. 

“Sire,” Jared said, an ache in his chest and throat. 

Then he didn’t know what else to say, but it did not matter because the king pulled him into his arms, his hand at the back of Jared’s head, pressing Jared’s face into his neck.

“My boy,” he murmured. “Husband.”

Jared shivered all over, and let himself go lax in the king’s arms. “I thought I would never see you again,” he said.

“I know,” the king said. “I know. It’s all right.”

Jared pulled away. “It’s not,” he said. 

He was suddenly angry. The king’s eyes widened. 

“Max is dead,” Jared said.

If possible, the king’s eyes widened further. He seemed to go pale in the moonlight, his mouth tight. 

“Come,” he said. “We should not do this in public.”

Jared nodded. He didn’t have the strength to argue, and he let the king take his hand and pull him through the camp. He was aware of a very many eyes on him, and he was aware that he was filthy and unkempt, but he didn’t have it in him to care. He squeezed Jensen’s hand very tightly and let him lead.

There was a large tent at the center of the encampment, and Jensen pulled him inside. Jeffrey and two other men from the king’s guard stood inside around a large table with maps and plans spread out in front of them. 

“Jared,” Jeff said, startled. 

“Leave,” Jensen said. He looked at Jeff. “All of you.”

“Sire,” the men said. They stepped outside the tent, though Jeff hesitated, sparing a lingering look for the king, trading words with a glance.

When Jeff finally left, Jensen turned to Jared then, searching his face. 

“Come,” Jensen said. “You look exhausted.” 

He led Jared to a rough camp bed stretched on a wooden frame. 

“You’ve been here for some time,” Jared said, looking at the bed, at the open trunks of clothing and weaponry, at the maps spread upon every available surface. He sat on the camp bed. “Long enough to be settled.”

Jensen nodded and watched Jared. “What happened to you?” he said. “How did you find me?”

“Please,” Jared said. “I will tell you everything, but not now.”

Jensen sat beside him. “Max?” he said.

“He escaped the citadel,” Jared said. “He found me and we set out to look for you, but he’d been hurt during the escape. It was infection.”

Jensen jaw went tight as he swallowed. 

“I stayed with him,” Jared said.

“He was mine to protect,” Jensen said. “As were you. I failed you both.”

“Jensen,” Jared said. “Can you just…can you lay with me? It has been too long since I’ve seen you.”

“Of course,” Jensen said. He sounded surprised. 

He lay back on the bed and pulled Jared toward him. Jared folded himself into the king’s side, attempting to make himself as small as possible. He rested his chin on the king’s chest and peered up at him. Jensen brushed Jared’s hair away from his eyes. 

“My husband,” Jensen said. “Your hair has grown long.”

“May I sleep?” Jared said. “Will you stay if I do?”

“Yes,” Jensen said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

***

When Jared woke again, it was still night, and the torches in the king’s tent had been turned down low, and all Jared could see were shadows. The king was sat on the edge of his bed so that Jared could see only the line of his back, his shoulders hunched as if he held his head in his hands. 

Jared sat up and slid behind the king. Kneeling behind him, he wrapped his arms around his king’s torso, rested his chin on the king’s shoulder. Jensen gripped Jared’s arm loosely, and they just breathed together.

“Is this okay?” Jared asked, his voice quiet.

“Of course,” Jensen said.

Jared pressed himself in closer, closed his eyes and breathed in Jensen’s scent. He’d spent many nights trying to call to mind this exact scent, the exact degree of warmth of Jensen’s skin, but he’d not even been close to the real thing. 

“You should be asleep,” Jensen said.

“I could say the same to you,” Jared said. 

“I keep thinking I’ll lose you again,” Jensen said. “I close my eyes and fear I’ll open them and be alone.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jared said. “They’d have to kill me this time. And I’d make sure to take a few of them along.”

Jensen laughed a little then grew silent. “I should train you up a bit,” he said, “so you can protect yourself if I’m not there.”

“I love you,” Jared said. 

The king twisted in Jared’s arms to stare at him. The look on his face was wary. “You don’t mean that, Jared,” he said. “You are just happy to be safe.”

“No,” Jared said. “I mean that. Eight moons have passed since I’ve seen you. Plenty of time to work out how I feel.”

Jensen kissed him then, and Jared opened for the king, let their tongues meet and breathed into the warmth of the king’s mouth. Jensen pressed him back against the bed, and Jared went willingly, spreading his legs as Jensen came to rest on top of him, as he explored Jared’s mouth as if memorizing the feel and taste of it.

“My husband,” Jensen said when he pulled away. He traced the lines of Jared’s face with his fingers, his thumb brushing along a cheekbone, his fingertips gentle at Jared’s brow. 

Jared grabbed Jensen’s hand and licked a wet stripe across the palm, sucked two of the fingers into his mouth a swirled his tongue around them. When Jensen took his hand back, he smeared saliva across Jared’s lips and chin. He stared at Jared, open-mouthed and wanting. 

“I want you to fuck me,” Jared said. “Please. My king. It’s been too long.”

“Yeah,” Jensen said. “Yeah.” 

He pulled the collar of Jared’s shirt aside, and Jared bared his neck as Jensen licked across his throat, sucked hard enough to bruise a mark at his jaw line, Jared’s hand loose on the back of his head. The king sat back on his knees then and stared openly at Jared as he made quick work of opening first Jared’s pants then his own, and Jared lifted his hips so the king could slide them down, then laughed with Jensen for a moment when they both became tangled trying to get Jared’s long legs in a position to remove his pants without removing Jensen from the bed. Once Jared was bare, Jensen pulled Jared’s legs onto his shoulders. He drizzled something cold and wet onto Jared’s hole that had Jared gasping and twitching. 

The king moved to open Jared on his fingers, but Jared stopped him. “Please,” he said. “I’m not the virgin I was. Please just fuck me. I don’t need you to be gentle.”

Jensen groaned and licked across his bottom lip. “So fucking beautiful,” he said. “So goddamned beautiful for me.”

Jared felt the king’s cock slowly breach his entrance, and the king moved to lay on top of Jared, practically folding Jared in half as he thrust home, and Jared grabbed Jensen’s ass and helped him along, wanting to feel all of him and reveling in the fact that he was _choosing_ this, that for once he didn’t have to lay passive and just take it like a good boy. 

Jared groaned as the king thrust against that spot inside that made him see the moon and the stars straight through the tent, and he ached suddenly to feel it harder, for Jensen to make it hurt and for him to hurt Jensen in return. He scratched down Jensen’s back, bit his lower lip and tugged until Jensen cried out and yanked away. Jared could see he’d drawn blood. Jensen fucked into him harder and grabbed Jared’s wrists, held them against the bed above his head. One of Jared’s legs slipped from the king’s shoulder, and Jared strained to reach the king to bite him again. His whole body felt tense, on the knife’s edge of pleasure and pain, and his orgasm took him completely by surprise. The king pressed against that spot once more, and Jared came, long and hard, groaning and clenching his ass around the king’s cock so that he followed quickly behind. 

The king collapsed on top of him, his cock still inside Jared, and he kissed his way up Jared’s neck and jaw until he pulled Jared’s panting mouth to his own and they kissed, all teeth and need, and Jared could taste Jensen’s blood in his mouth and that alone made his cock twitch again where it lay spent between his and Jensen’s stomachs and in the mess they’d made. 

“Don’t ever leave me again,” Jensen said, his face buried in Jared’s neck, his softening cock in Jared’s ass. 

“I won’t,” Jared promised. “Never again.”

***

Jared woke again in the day. Someone had put a folding screen up, blocking the bed from view, and Jared could hear the murmur of voices on the other side. He stood, picked his clothes from the ground, and dressed hurriedly, wrinkling his nose a bit as the smell of them, stiff with dirt and sweat. He licked his palms and tried to smooth his hair down. Then, having done the best he could to make himself presentable, he poked his head around the screen. The king was there, at the same table he’d been at the night before, though seated this time and talking with Jeff and another man whom Jared didn’t recognize. 

Jared stepped fully into the room. “My lord,” he said, looking at Jensen.

Jensen smiled up at him. “Jared,” he said. “Come here. There’s breakfast.”

Jared edged in, fought the urge to kneel beside Jensen and instead took the chair by Jensen’s side. He didn’t know if that’s what Jensen wanted, but he didn’t complain, so Jared, without a word, began serving himself from the platters of food in the center of the table—simple fare, breads and salted meat, the strange lumpy green fruit that Jared had seen growing from the trees as he’d walked here. It was sweetly sour on his tongue, with small, black, crunchy seeds, and Jared chewed loudly, much too hungry to be polite. He could feel Jeff and the other soldier watching him as he ate. Jensen rested his hand against the nape of Jared’s neck, and Jared relaxed into it, flicking his eyes upwards.

“I hear you’ve come a long way, little one,” the nameless soldier said. 

Jared paused in his eating, and looked up, his eyes drawn to Jeffrey. In the daylight, now that he was as safe as possible, he was finding it hard to forget that the king’s advisor had known exactly where Jared was. Had known for quite some time.

“I did,” Jared said, his words slow. “From the Winchester farm.”

“Winchester?” Jensen said. He looked to Jeffrey. 

The tension in Jared crept up his spine and into his shoulders, and he stilled, waiting to see how this would play out. 

“He would have known who Jared was,” the King continued. “He was present for our union.” 

“Yes, sire,” Jeff said, his eyes locked on Jared. 

“Why were you with him, Jared?” the king said. His voice sounded controlled, but Jared could see his anger, the tension in his jaw, the slight downward hook of the corner of his mouth.

“He bought me from a slave market,” Jared said. 

Jensen stood. “I will have him killed,” he said to Jeff. “I want him tied to the back of my horse and dragged through the fucking capital.”

“Yes, sire,” Jeffrey said. “He will pay along with the rest of the council.”

“No,” Jensen said. “Now. Today. I’m bringing the guard with me, and I’m going to kill the man myself.”

Jared stood and put his hand on Jensen’s arm, wanting to calm him. “He’s at the citadel,” he said, trying to keep his voice soothing. “You will not find him on his land. That’s how I was able to escape.” 

Jensen dragged a breath in through his nose. Nodded once. “I want to end this, Jeff,” he said. “I want these plans finished within the week.”

“Of course,” Jeff said. 

Jared looked at Jeff. “My king,” he said. “May I speak with you alone?”

“Sire,” Jeff said. “We have too much work to do. We don’t have time for this.”

Jensen rubbed his forehead with two fingers. “We will speak later,” he said to Jared. “There is a servant waiting just outside the tent. Go with her. She will see you clothed and see that you know your way around camp.”

“No,” Jared said. 

The king looked at him, startled.

“I need to speak with you,” Jared said.

“We’ll speak later,” Jensen said. 

“Jensen—”

The king raised an eyebrow. “Are you questioning my command?”

“Yes,” Jared said. “That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

The silence that followed was one of the most uncomfortable silences Jared had experienced, the three soldiers staring at him as if he’d suddenly performed magic.

“Leave,” Jensen said, finally. It was clear he was speaking to the other two men and not to Jared. 

“Jared,” he said when they’d left. By the tone of his voice, he was just on the edge of real anger, one more push from Jared and he might lash out. 

Jared didn’t care.

“No,” he said. “I am your husband, not your slave. Do you understand the difference?”

“Of course I do,” Jensen said.

“Then you will not treat me like a slave,” Jared said. “I will not take orders. Not anymore.”

Jensen studied him carefully before speaking. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. “I am in the middle of a war. I have work to do.”

“I understand that,” Jared said. He stepped up to Jensen, laid his hand on Jensen’s face. “I would not interrupt you if it weren’t important.”

Jensen nodded, barely relaxing into Jared’s touch. 

“You’ve been fighting for too long,” Jared said.

“I have no choice,” Jensen said. 

“I know,” Jared said.

Jensen held Jared’s wrist, keeping Jared’s hand against his face. “Did Winchester hurt you?”

Jared diverted his eyes. “Do you really want to know?”

Jensen’s grip on Jared’s wrist tightened until it was painful. “I want to kill him.” 

“Hush,” Jared said. “Later. I have something important to tell you.”

Jared guided the king into his chair. He knelt in front of him. 

“What is this?” Jensen asked. “You’re right, you know. You aren’t my slave. You don’t have to kneel.”

Jared shrugged. He wouldn’t tell the king that, when it was him, when it was Jensen, he didn’t mind kneeling so much. After so long kneeling for someone he hated, it was almost nice to do it by choice. He looked up at the king. “You didn’t know where I was?” he said, hedging around his true worry, not wanting to tell the king someone he trusted as thoroughly as Jeff could have betrayed him. 

“No,” Jensen said. “You haven’t gone all this time thinking that, have you? That I left you to that?”

Jared shook his head. “No,” he said. “I hoped you were looking for me.”

“I was,” Jensen said. 

Jared took a deep breath. “Jeffrey knew where I was.”

Jensen stilled for a moment, saying nothing, then he sat back in his chair, pulling his hands away from Jared. When he spoke, he was all business. “Explain,” he said.

“My master—” Jared paused. Took a breath. Started over. “ _Winchester_ —he would send me to market sometimes with another slave. Our cart got stuck in the mud on the Kingsroad one day when Jeffrey and your guard were travelling South. They helped us out of the mud.”

“Maybe he didn’t see you,” Jensen said.

“He saw me,” Jared said. He put his hand on the king’s knee. Watched the flex of his own fingers. Jensen put his hand on top of Jared’s. “I all but begged him to help me,” Jared said. 

“Fuck the gods,” Jensen said quietly. 

“He didn’t tell you?” Jared said, though he already knew the answer.

Jensen said nothing. 

“Perhaps there is a reason for it. Max thought…” Jared swallowed, the pain of that loss reappearing. He tried again. “Max thought perhaps he was trying to keep me safe. That I’d be safe with Winchester until…after.”

“Perhaps you would have been,” Jensen said. “But that does nothing to explain why Jeff kept it from me.”

“I know,” Jared said. 

“It fits,” Jensen said. “Whoever took you knew the citadel’s secret passages. But more than that—they knew what you meant to me. They knew I would go after you.”

“What are you going to do?” Jared asked.

The king stood, and Jared stood beside him.

“Kane!” the king called. 

The soldier who’d been at the table that morning strode back into the tent. “Sire?” he said. He looked from Jared back to the king. 

“Where is Jeff?” the king said.

“Across camp,” Kane said. “Would you like me to fetch him?”

“No,” Jensen said. “I wish to speak with you.”

Kane nodded. 

“We’ve fought beside each other for many years,” the King started. “You’ve always been someone I could trust.”

“Of course, sire,” Kane said. “We grew up together. You will always have my loyalty.”

“Yet you are part of Jeff’s guard?”

“I’m part of _your_ guard, sire,” Kane said. “The King’s Guard.” Then he cracked a smile. “Jensen,” he said, looking at Jared. “Sire. I’m sorry, but is this a trick question?”

Jensen sighed, rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. “No,” he said. “I wish it were. Sit,” he said. “We have something to discuss.”

Kane sat obediently, the king following. 

“Sire,” Jared said. “Should I—”

“Sit, Jared,” the King said.

Jared sat. After a moment’s hesitation, he put his hand on the king’s knee below the table, smiled at him a little to show he was supported. 

The king turned to Kane. “We grew up together, Chris,” he said. “We always wanted the same things. We’ve both wanted for so long to unite the kingdom, end all this fighting.”

“Of course,” Kane said.

“But Jeff…he fought under my father’s command.”

“You’re worried about Jeff’s loyalty?” Kane said. “You’re not serious.”

“It seems he has been keeping things from me,” Jensen said. He looked to Jared. 

Kane looked as if he suddenly understood something. He settled into his chair and looked at the king. “This is about Jared,” he said.

“Jeff knew where he was,” Jensen said. “He saw Jared while riding South. He neglected to tell me.”

“Jensen, forgive me, but it is likely he wanted to keep your head in the game,” Kane said. “You haven’t been known to make the best decisions when it comes to the boy.”

“We’ve known for some time now there is a leak,” Jensen said.

“Yeah, but…Jeff?” Chris gave a low whistle, shook his head slowly. “Fuck me. He’s been a part of your family since he was a child.”

“Yes he has,” Jensen said. “He was even around when my uncle was head of the council.”

“You think he’s loyal to Jed?”

“My father?” Jared said, unable to hold back.

Jensen and Chris shared a look, as if neither one of them wanted to broach that particular subject. 

“It’s the only possibility that makes sense,” Jensen said slowly. 

“But that would mean my father had a hand in my abduction. In making me a slave,” Jared said. “If Jeff is the traitor, and he was taking orders from my father—”

“He is not your father,” Jensen interrupted. 

“He raised me,” Jared said. “He is the only father I have. And you’ll pardon me if I find it painful to learn he cares so little for my well-being.”

After a pause, Chris spoke. “Jed Ackles cares about no one but himself, kid. Don’t take it personal.”

“There’s no other way to take it,” Jared said. He felt dizzy. He thought of himself crawling across the floor to take Winchester’s cock into his mouth, thought of the endless nights of cold, the loss of his homeland, of being forced into a marriage that, though he’d accepted, he’d never wanted. His father had given him over to all of that. 

“What do you want to do?” Chris said, his words filtering slowly into Jared’s thoughts.

“The usual,” Jensen said. “Feed him information. Watch to see what he does with it. I will not accuse him without being certain.” 

“Yes, sire,” Chris said. He stood.

“Go,” Jensen said. “Rest. Be with the men. I want you and Jeff in my tent at sundown.” 

Chris obeyed, which left Jared alone with Jensen. Jensen looked to him, his face softening, as if he were concerned. 

“Come here, my boy,” Jensen said. 

Jared shook his head; his thoughts of his marriage with the king and how that came about too near to feel comfortable going to him so easily. He tugged once at the piercing in his ear, still with him after all this time. “I’d like to bathe,” he said, “if that’s possible here. And I’ve been wearing these clothes for over a week.”

Jensen considered Jared carefully. Jared just looked him in the face, let the king have his look. 

“Of course,” Jensen said, finally. “There is a servant just outside. Marta. Go with her, she’ll get you what you need.”

Jared nodded and moved to walk from the tent.

“Jared,” the king said. He took a step closer, though he didn’t reach out to touch. “Are you all right?” he said. “You can talk to me if you need.”

The question was much too complicated for Jared to answer. “I’m fine,” he said. He waited for Jensen’s nod, then he slipped out of the tent. 

***

He spent the day with Marta—a slave with no tongue who smiled at Jared and slapped his naked ass after he stripped to bathe in the small stream at the edge of the camp. Months ago, that might have made him blush, but he’d had many unwelcome touches since, and he felt more comfortable in Marta’s presence than he had since he’d first found the camp, so he merely laughed at her and waded into the water, shivering at its iciness and scrubbing his body quickly with his bare hands and a misshapen lump of lye soap. 

Marta gave him clothes, soft leather trousers and a padded black linen shirt, then pulled a cloak over his shoulders, the fur of its collar soft against his ears and throat. She pointed at Jared then drew a circle above her head with one finger, pointed at Jared again. When Jared just stood there, confused, she grunted out a word, unable to shape it fully without a tongue, but Jared gathered she was saying _crown_. He nodded at her, unsure of what she meant. She shrugged, then turned around.

Marta led him around the camp in a big circle, and Jared tried to make sense of its order. He would have to ask the king to explain its layout later, since Marta could not explain to him what he was seeing. So Jared fell into his thoughts as he followed behind her, smiling at her when she looked back at him, grinning a lopsided grin and pointing at random. He wondered what her story was. How she’d lost her tongue. He wondered if Jensen had had a hand in it, or if it had been someone more like his master. And what was the difference between Jensen and Winchester anyway? Jared stopped that train of thought before it began. He wanted to look ahead rather than behind. He wondered if Winchester had made it home yet, and, if so, if Chad and Katie were all right. He wondered what these men, these soldiers, war weary and with no township to call home, thought of him as he walked through the camp in a cloak finer than anything he’d ever worn before, wondered if they knew him as the king’s husband or as his whore. He wondered again what it was that made the king different than Winchester. 

He made it back to the tent before Jeff and Chris, and when he slid inside, he found Jensen standing at the same table, leaning over it, his hands flat against the map and his face drawn, worried. 

He looked up at Jared. His smile seemed to Jared uncertain, so Jared tried to smile back, to reassure him. 

“I hope you’re feeling better now that you’ve bathed?” Jensen asked when Jared said nothing. 

Jared nodded. 

Jensen shifted as if he wanted to move closer to Jared, but he held back. 

Jared raised an eyebrow. “You want to touch me,” he said.

“Very much,” Jensen said.

“You’ve never held back before,” Jared said.

“No,” Jensen said. “I haven’t.”

Jared nodded. He walked to his king, covered his hand against the table with one of his own, pulled it up to his face, nosed at the inside of the king’s wrist before dropping a kiss there. 

“Did _he_ touch you?” the king said.

Jared looked up at the king. “Winchester?” he asked.

Jensen nodded once, his body still, his hand warm in Jared’s.

“He was my master,” Jared said. “Of course he touched me.”

Jensen closed his eyes. 

“You touched Max,” Jared said. 

Jensen looked at him, pulled his hand away. “That’s different,” he said, his voice rough.

“How?” Jared asked. 

“It just is,” Jensen said. “And it’s none of your business.”

“Please,” Jared said. “I’m only trying to understand. You’re so angry at the thought of what Winchester might have done to me, but you have slaves. You’ve done many of the same things.”

“You think me no different than him?” 

“I don’t know what to think,” Jared admitted. 

“Max and I grew up together,” Jensen said. “What he gave me, he gave freely.”

“He was a slave,” Jared said. “He could give nothing freely.”

“Yes, but I…” Jensen paused, dragged a hand across his mouth. “I cared for him. I would not have touched him had he said no.” He snorted a laugh, though there seemed no amusement in it. “In fact, he did say no. He was a fickle bastard. He could go months without letting me touch him.”

“He loved you,” Jared said.

“Is that what this is?” Jensen said. “Do you think I cared more for him than you?”

“I know you did,” Jared said.

“You are my husband,” Jensen said, as if that meant everything.

“And you’ve known me for _weeks_ ,” Jared said. “I know you care for me, for who you think I am, and in time it could be like it was with Max. But the reality is we barely know each other.”

Jensen shook his head. “I never loved Max that way, gods help me. I was too lost in the thought of you. The husband I’d lost before I’d ever even had him. Max deserved better. _You_ deserve better.”

“Maybe,” Jared said. “But that’s all in the past. I chose to marry you. And I didn’t understand it then, but now I’ve fought to come back to you. You’re all I have. And I want this to work.”

“As do I,” Jensen said.

“Good,” Jared said. “I want to fight.”

Jensen raised an eyebrow, seeming a little baffled by the abrupt change of topic. “I told you I would train you,” Jensen allowed.

“I want to fight beside you,” Jared said. “I need to be a part of this.”

“Jared that’s…” the king shook his head. “That’s not something I can give you.”

“Why not?”

“There is too much risk,” Jensen said. “You could die.”

“As could you,” Jared said. 

“I am King,” Jensen said. 

“And what am I?”

“You are my husband.”

“You say that,” Jared said, “but what does that mean to you? Am I to just sit around? Look pretty? Spread my legs when you want a fuck?”

Jensen didn’t respond, but Jared could see by the look on his face that he’d struck a nerve. 

“Fine,” Jared said. “Maybe that’s what you think of me.”

“I don’t, Jared,” Jensen said. “You are more to me than a bed slave.”

“I need you to show me that,” Jared said. “I am a capable man. I’m willing to admit that I’m not a warrior, that I was foolish and naïve when you first took me. But I have changed, Jensen. I have reason to fight this war beside you. And I may not be able to best you, but I am good with a sword and dagger. I was trained by Jed Ackles, wasn’t I?”

Jensen stood silent for a moment before removing his cloak and throwing it haphazardly on top of the table with its maps and plans. 

“What are you doing?” Jared said.

“Come with me,” Jensen said.

He slipped out the back of the tent, and Jared followed. He wanted to finish their conversation, but he was curious despite himself. He found Jensen in a small clearing walled in by the backs of tents and holding two swords. 

“Chris and I spar back here,” Jensen said. “It helps keep us sharp. Helps us work off the tension.”

“You wish to spar?” Jared said.

“I need you to show me what you can do if I’m to let you go into battle.”

Jared smiled. “You’re on,” he said.

“This is not a joke, my husband,” Jensen said. “I am not going to be easy with you.”

“Nor do I want you to be.”

“Good,” Jensen said. “Now remove your cloak.”

Jared untied it, tossed the heavy material to the ground. He shivered a bit in the chill. It was not near as cold as it had been when he’d first arrived in the North, but the summer was waning; winter would be here again soon, and Jared hoped he’d be back in the castle when the first snows fell. He would do what he could to be a part of that victory.

Jensen tossed him a sword, and Jared caught it by the handle. He was rusty, and the blade almost slipped, but he managed to keep hold of it. It was a practice blade, he saw, the edges dulled, but the metal no less a weapon; he would bruise badly if Jensen were to catch him with it. 

“Ready?” Jensen said. 

Jared loosened his grip, turned side-face, and held his blade toward the king who was watching him carefully, his somber eyes assessing Jared’s stance and movements, and Jared did what he could to make himself perfect for the king, to make himself perfect for himself. When the king seemed pleased that Jared was competent in at least this aspect of sword fighting, he moved in and they locked blades. Almost immediately, the king got the best of Jared. He allowed himself to be led too close to the king, and Jensen got a hold of his forearm, twisted until Jared dropped his blade and cried out. 

“I’m sorry,” Jared said. 

“Sorry is dead on the battlefield,” Jensen said.

“I know,” Jared said.

“Do you?” Jensen said. “Do you really know what you’re asking of me?” 

“I do,” Jared said.

“Pick up your blade,” the king said. 

Jared did. He loosened his grip, felt the weight of it in his hand, tried to feel the blade as if it were an extension of his arm as he’d been taught. It had been too long since he’d held a weapon, and he was aware his father had taught him this skill never expecting him to have to fight. It had been a sport for Jed Ackles, and Jared saw now that he’d taught him only as another way to tear him down, to humiliate Jared—who’d been gangly, graceless and clumsy as a boy—when he’d failed. But Jared hadn’t let his father get the better of him. He’d put everything into learning the sword, and his father had eventually admitted that Jared would be a fine swordsman. Jared was determined to show Jensen that skill now.

“You are tall,” Jensen said, “and you’ve gained muscle since last I saw you. But many of the men you will fight have more strength than you, and more skill. You should concentrate on defense. Don’t rush me as you did just now. Force them to come to you.”

Jared nodded, fell into position. Jensen did the same. The circled each other for a moment, Jared heeding Jensen’s advice. When Jensen attacked, Jared blocked his first blow and his second. Jensen hit his arm, hard enough that Jared cried out, but he held his blade and managed to block Jensen’s second blow. 

Jensen eventually disarmed him and had his blade at Jared’s throat, but he was smiling. “Good,” Jensen said. “Better.”

Jared smiled back. “You will let me fight?” he said. He felt good suddenly for the first time in a while. Fighting with Jensen like he was Jensen’s equal, being taught by him, working towards some purpose, and all of it caught in his chest, a feeling of pride swelling inside of him.

“I will work with you when I have time,” Jensen said.

“That is not an answer,” Jared said, grinning wider.

“No,” Jensen said. “It isn’t.” 

Jared stepped up to the king, pulled the blade from his hand, dropped it to the ground. 

“What’s this?” Jensen said, an eyebrow raised, a smirk curling his lips. 

“You are beautiful when you fight,” Jared said. “My handsome, fierce king.” He leaned in, pressed his lips to the king’s ear, his hand at the king’s waist. “May I suck your cock, sire?”

Jared felt a shiver run through the king, felt his warm breath blow out against his neck. He didn’t stop him, so Jared dropped to his knees, looked up Jensen’s body to meet his eyes. Jensen’s hand went to Jared’s head, pushed his hair back from his face, tucked some behind his ear and fingered the piercing he’d marked Jared with.

“I remember the first time I knelt for you,” Jared said, slowly unlacing the king’s pants, leaning into the king’s touch. “I remember how terrified I was of you. Of what you would make of me.”

“You did not seem terrified,” Jensen said. He sucked in a breath as Jared freed his cock, dragged his thumb across the sensitive tip. 

“Such a beautiful thing,” Jared said, stroking, letting his king’s cock plump in his hand, licking his lips as the slit winked open, a bead of pre-come pearling out. “I’ve lusted after men since my first wet dream,” Jared said. “I never let myself admit it until you.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Jensen said. He wiped wetness from the corner of Jared’s eye with his thumb, and Jared blinked up at him.

“You know that’s not true,” Jared said. “You would not be allowed a husband if you were not king.”

“Good thing I am, then,” Jensen said. He tugged at Jared’s hair. “Are you going to tease all day?” 

“Maybe,” Jared said, though he smiled and took the king’s cock into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the head before going down further, pushing past his gag reflex until the king was seated firmly in his throat. He hummed a little and felt the king’s hand tighten in his hair. Jared tried to hold the king there for as long as he could, but soon he had to pull back, gasping and swallowing, then looking up at the king as he nuzzled underneath his cock against his balls, then flattened his tongue and dragged it up the shaft. He finished the king off with his hand, catching his come on his tongue, opening for it as if it were a sweet the king was gifting him.

Jared wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand and smiled up at the king, but Jensen looked flushed and upset, as if he hadn’t just been on the receiving end of a damn fine blow job. 

“Jensen?” Jared asked. 

A throat was cleared behind them. Both Jensen and Jared startled, Jared scrambling to his feet and wiping furiously at his mouth, and Jensen tucking himself away hurriedly. It was Chris, and though he obviously knew what he’d walked in on, he seemed unbothered, just looked at the king.

“Jeff’s inside, sire,” he said. “We’re ready when you are.”

“Thanks,” Jensen said. “We’ll just be a moment.”

Chris tipped his head in deference and slipped back into the tent. 

“What’s wrong?” Jared said. 

“You learned that from him,” Jensen said. “From Winchester.”

“Oh,” Jared said, a swooping sensation catching in his stomach. 

He’d given the king only one blow job before he’d been taken, and it had been his first. But he’d sucked cock so many times since then, he’d nearly forgotten how terrible he’d been. After the first time Winchester had fucked his throat because Jared couldn’t do it right, he’d begged Katie to help him, and she’d patiently walked him through it, told him what worked best. It had taken a few tries, but he’d gotten it right eventually. He hadn’t thought what Jensen would say to his newfound expertise, though. Now, he found himself flushing and looking away, a sick feeling of shame in his core, an apology on his lips. 

“You’ve nothing to apologize for,” Jensen said. 

Jared nodded. “Yes, sire,” he said. “Of course.” He wanted to say more, but the king moved into the tent before he could get the words out. 

***

It seemed to Jared that Jeff was on edge. As soon as Jared stepped into the tent, Jeff questioned it. 

“He stays,” Jensen said. 

“We have important business to discuss, sire,” Jeff said. 

“He is my husband, Jeff,” Jensen said. “And despite your misgivings, he will sit on my council.”

“He is a _boy_ ,” Jeff said. 

Jared wanted to protest, but he thought that might do more to prove Jeff’s point, so he remained silent. 

“He needs to learn how this works,” Jensen said.

“Sire—”

“Enough,” Jensen said.

Jeff fell silent with only a slight, deferential bow of his head.

“I want to march on the citadel by week’s end,” Jensen said. “Will that be enough time to ready the soldiers?”

Jeff said nothing. 

“They’ll be ready,” Kane put in. “We received word today from your brother that Lord Collins has agreed to our terms. He and Joshua are marching in with men from Doverglen and should arrive by day’s end tomorrow.”

“Good,” Jensen said. “We’ll move quickly through the plains. They will expect us to take the river route. They will not be watching for an attack from the East. 

“And what is the plan?” Jeff said. “If we attack the citadel, what will become of the civilians in the capital?”

“I plan to bypass the city all together,” Jensen said. He pinned Jeff with a look. “There are two passages the citadel’s _visitors_ will not know about. Passages that lead beyond the wall that my father had erased from the blueprints. We will enter the passages and take the castle from the inside.”

“I do not know these passages,” Jeff said.

“No,” Jensen said. “They were known only by my father and mother, and they passed that knowledge only to me and Joshua.”

Jeff nodded. “As long as those passages have remained a secret, then it is a sound plan.” 

“Do we have any way to be certain they’ve remained a secret?” Kane said.

“It’s unlikely anyone has stumbled upon them,” Jensen said. “Max never even found them, and he knew the citadel better than anyone.”

“We should retrieve his body,” Jared said.

The three men looked at him for the first time since the meeting had begun. Jared stood up straight.

“I covered his body as best I could,” he said, “but he deserves better.”

“This is a war, boy,” Jeff said. “It is not feasible to burn every body.”

“No,” Jensen said. “Jared is right. Max was a loyal servant.” His mouth twisted a bit. “And an honored friend. I’d like to do right by him.”

Jensen looked to the map. “We will march in a straight line between the Kingsroad and the Eastern townships, avoiding both.”

“We came that same way,” Jared said. “It should not be out of the way to find him.”

“Good,” Jensen said. “Now go away. All of you. I am tired, and we cannot have a meeting of the generals until Joshua arrives with Lord Collins. Tell no one of what we’ve discussed until then.”

Jeff turned and walked from the tent. Jensen stopped Chris. “Follow him,” he said.

Chris nodded once and slid into the night. 

“Thank you,” Jared said. “For agreeing to find Max.”

“I’m not doing it for you,” Jensen said.

Jared nodded. “You’re angry with me,” he said.

“I don’t like knowing that another man had you,” Jensen said.

Jared snorted. “Yeah? Nor was it a dream come true for me.” 

Jensen moved to Jared, gripped Jared’s shirt in his fist. He was not rough with Jared, he did not look at him with anger; when he looked Jared in the face, there was nothing but hurt there.

“I’m sorry,” Jensen said, knocking his knuckles against Jared’s breastbone. “Gods, I’m so sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for.” 

“I swore a blood oath to protect you.”

“You could not have known,” Jared said. He put his hand over the king’s, unraveled the king’s fist from his shirt. 

“I brought you into this,” Jensen said.

“I’m beginning to think I would have been in this one way or another,” Jared said. “And at least, at the end of the day, I get you out of the deal.”

He tried a smile, but Jensen kissed him, pressed their lips together, closed-mouthed, warm and dry, then he pressed his forehead to Jared’s. “I need you to tell me,” Jensen said. “Tell me everything he did to you.”

“Jensen…” Jared squirmed away.

“I need to know,” Jensen said. “I need to know how much pain he deserves. I need to know what I have to atone for.”

“Stop,” Jared said. 

He pushed Jensen off of him; Jensen let himself be pushed. 

“These are not comfortable memories for me,” Jared said. 

“I need to know,” Jensen said.

“You need to know so you can appease your own guilt,” Jared said. “You have no care for how this affects me.” 

Jensen sighed. He walked to the bed and lowered himself onto the edge. “I apologize,” he said. “I did not think.”

“I know,” Jared said. 

“In case you haven’t noticed,” Jensen said, tossing Jared a weak grin. “I’m not exactly good at this sort of thing. People usually just—” he waved his hand through the air “obey me.” 

Jared laughed. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ve noticed that.”

“I hate the thought of him hurting you.” 

“It wasn’t bad,” Jared said.

Jensen gave him a disbelieving look.

“It wasn’t good,” Jared said. “But he was kind to us. He…made use of us,” Jared said, blushing, “but it wasn’t always. I was mostly a farm hand. I think he was just lonely.”

“His other slaves,” Jensen said. “They stayed?” 

“They are loyal to you.”

“I wasn’t questioning that.”

“They were in love,” Jared said. “Master brought Katie to the citadel, and Chad wouldn’t leave without her.”

Jensen’s face softened a bit at that. He straightened his shoulders. “They will be rewarded for helping you,” he said.

Jared paused, surprised. “You would do that?” he said. 

“Of course.”

“Will you give them their freedom?” 

“If that’s what they want,” Jensen said. 

Jared nodded. “Thank you,” he said. “That’s…more than I expected.”

“You seem to not expect much of me,” Jensen said.

Jared shrugged, feeling uncomfortable. Jensen was right; though he’d given Jared no reason to think he was unkind to slaves, Jared hadn’t expected him to be sympathetic. His understanding of Jensen was skewed, his feelings for the man tangled. He loved him and feared him by turns, and he always felt uncertain of his standing. It was enough to exhaust him. 

“I have something for you,” Jensen said. “Maybe it will just make things worse, but I hope it will make them better.”

Jensen stood and moved to a small satchel hanging from the bed frame. “It’s lucky I have this,” he said, turning around with a thin wooden box in his hands. “I lost quite a bit when the citadel was taken. All of my family’s heirlooms are there. All of our riches. But I’d been keeping this box with me as a reminder.”

“What is it?” Jared said.

The king held the box toward him, looking uncharacteristically nervous. Jared took it, ran a hand across the smooth surface, opened the stiff lid to peer inside. And there, resting on a bit of cloth, were the bronzed ear cuffs the king had gifted him at their marriage ceremony. The king’s version of a ring, the only crown his family owned to be worn by the person who sat by the king’s side. He’d been touched to receive the cuffs the first time; seeing them now righted something inside of him, forced him to remember all of the nights he spent apart from Jensen just wishing he could have him back. 

“Thank you,” Jared said. “I thought they were lost.”

“You removed them to bathe the morning you were taken,” Jensen said. “Max kept them safe.”

“Of course he did.”

“If you wear them, my men will know you are my prince.”

Jared nodded. “I want to wear them,” he said.

Jensen smiled at that. He reached out to push Jared’s hair behind his ear. “Good,” he said. “They will tame this wild hair of yours.”

Jared snorted. “You Northerners and your short hair.” He handed Jensen the box. “Crown me, Your Grace?”

Jensen took the box and led Jared to sit on the edge of the bed. He removed one cuff and slipped it around Jared’s ear. The other, he slotted into place through the ring of Jared’s piercing, and he let his hand linger at Jared’s ear lobe, tugging a bit. 

“They could be attached,” Jared said. “It could be permanent, like the piercing.”

“You would want that?” Jensen said, surprised. 

“I already wear your mark,” Jared said. “And I can see _you_ want that. That you designed my piercing to hold the cuff in place.”

“They are designed to be held in place with a piercing through the lobe,” Jensen said. He pushed Jared back onto the bed with a grin, crawled on top of him. “I would have you wear many marks,” he said. He tilted Jared’s head back, licked a line up his neck, bit his chin gently. “I would have you be claimed.” He pulled the neck of Jared’s shirt down, the laces pulling apart to reveal one of Jared’s nipples. He attached his mouth there, licking, sucking, then biting until Jared hissed and the flesh was sore and red, the nipple peaked. “I would pierce you here. A matched set on your perfect little nipples.” He flicked his tongue out to touch the tip, and Jared shuddered beneath him. “I would pierce your perfect cock and your taint, and I would lock the two together so that they were only for me. So you could only harden at my touch. Only when I let you.”

“Gods, but you’re a kinky fuck,” Jared said.

Jensen took his mouth again, both of his hands at the sides of Jared’s head, tilting it as far as Jared could stretch and forcing entrance. Jared wrapped a leg around the king’s hips and pulled him closer, searching for friction against his hardening cock and whining when Jensen pulled away. 

Jensen hushed him, though, sat straddled across Jared’s thighs, and moved to unlace Jared’s pants and his own. He got his hands on both of their cocks, wrapped his fist around the girth of them as best he could, using their pre-come to ease the friction of his rough hand against the sensitive skin. Jared came like that, his cock surrounded on all sides by Jensen, his hands gripping Jensen’s biceps hard enough to bruise. Jensen followed not long after, just as Jared’s cock began to feel too sensitive, Jensen’s touch edging toward pain.

The king collapsed on the bed next to him, and Jared tucked his own cock away, then he moved on top of the king and down his body, used his tongue to clean the king’s cock of their mingled come. Jensen looked surprised at the gesture, and put his hand in Jared’s hair to pull him away, but Jared murmured “please” and nuzzled against Jensen’s cock, and Jensen relented. When Jared finished and moved up to rest against Jensen’s shoulder, Jensen’s face looked somber. 

“Don’t think about where I learned it,” Jared said. “I _wanted_ to do that for you.”

Jensen nodded, pulled Jared in close. 

“My king,” Jared said. “I have something for you as well.”

Jensen tilted his head to look down at Jared, and Jared stretched himself to reach off the side of the bed where his pouch was. In it he found the necklace he’d made the king. He kept his eyes on his hands as he handed it over. 

“It’s not much,” he said. 

“Wolves’ teeth?” Jensen said.

Jared settled in against Jensen’s chest and nodded. “It was one of my duties to keep the wolves from harming Master’s flock,” he said, his voice quiet. “But wolves are sacred in the South. It didn’t seem right to kill them and not remember them. And I wanted to give you something to show you that I thought of you. Everything that happened, and I didn’t stop thinking of you.” 

“Look at me,” Jensen said. 

Jared tilted his head up, but the king grabbed him by the shoulders, tugged at him until Jared was on top of him, his chin on the king’s chest, looking up to meet the king’s eyes. 

“Thank you,” Jensen said.

Jared shrugged. “It’s not much. Not fitting for a king.”

Jensen pressed a kiss to Jared’s forehead. “It’s perfect,” he murmured. He pulled it over his head. 

They laid together in silence for some time, drawing warmth from each other and listening to the voices and laughter of the men on the other side of the tent. The king seemed content with the silence, but Jared, mind always too busy, broke it before long. 

“Do you really want me like that?” he said.

“Hmm?” Jensen said, sounding sleepy and comfortable.

“The piercings,” Jared said, a nervous flutter wakening in his belly and limbs at the thought. His fingers moved to play with the necklace now resting against the king’s collar bone. “Do you really want my cock pierced in such a way?”

Jensen smoothed Jared’s hair from his face, tucked it behind the cuff he could see peeking out of the tangle of it. “I can’t deny the idea appeals to me,” he said. “But I would not do it without your permission.”

Jared nodded. “Max said that if all had gone as planned, that if my parents had not been killed and I’d been raised as your betrothed, that I would have been castrated as a boy.”

“It was common in my father’s time to castrate male slaves,” Jensen said, his voice thoughtful. “Slave holders believed they would be less aggressive, less likely to form an uprising. It also, of course, gave men of the court a way to justify bedding their male slaves, which had been considered a perversion before. After the castration, they were not fucking a _man_ , you see.”

“But I would have been your betrothed, not your slave.”

“My father thought a man bedding another man was a perversion,” Jensen said. “But your parents had no daughter, and he wanted the alliance. He would have had you castrated so there would have been no question who was fucking whom.”

“But _you_ won’t,” Jared said.

“No,” Jensen said. “Never. I like your cock and balls just where they are.”

Jared nodded against the king’s chest, blowing out a breath.

“You were worried,” Jensen said. “Did Max tell you I wanted you gelded?”

“No,” Jared said. “But you bedded him often. You thought his body arousing.”

“You are not Max,” Jensen said. “And I would have had Max whole, as well. But he was a gift from my father.”

“What happened to your father?” Jared said. “They say he went mad.”

Jensen let out a long breath. He pulled himself away from Jared and sat up. 

“I’m sorry,” Jared said. “It’s not my place to ask.”

“It’s fine,” Jensen said, hunching his shoulders to rest his elbows against his knees. “It was a growth. On his brain. He wasn’t himself at the end.”

“That must have been terrible.”

Jensen nodded. “I fear ending up that way,” he said after a moment of silence. “I fear I’ll change nothing in this kingdom before I die. And with this war,” he ran a hand through his hair, “fuck me, but that possibility seems daily more real.”

Jared put his hand against the king’s back. “Jensen,” he began.

But they were interrupted, then, when a soldier rushed into the tent.

“King!”

Jensen sat straight. “What is it?”

Unlike Chris, this soldier did look flustered by what he’d walked in on. “I apologize, sire,” he said, his eyes turning guiltily away. “You are needed.”

Jensen nodded once. He stood, dragged a hand across his face, then pulled his cloak over his shoulders and sheathed his sword, pulling on the mantel of king, his posture and expression cementing the change. He stepped outside. Jared slipped out of the bed and, after quickly making sure he was decent, followed him.

The camp ground was lit only by the moon and by a low fire that had almost burnt itself out, the orange light flickering weakly against the blue black of the night. The king’s guard stood in the half light, barely more than shadows, and Jeff was in the center on his knees in the dirt, his hands bound before him, his head hanging. Kane stood beside him with one hand on his shoulder, the end of the ropes binding him clutched in the other.

“What is this?” Jensen said.

“Steve and I found him at the edge of camp, calling to someone,” Kane said. “A rider came from the darkness, and Jeff gave him a missive to take to the citadel.” He handed a piece of crumpled papyrus to the king

Jensen read it slowly. He looked up at Chris. “The rider?”

“I tried to take him alive, but he fought,” a man to Chris’s left said. “He is dead.” 

“Good,” Jensen said. “Beyond the Guard, is there anyone who knows of this?” 

“Most of the men are asleep,” Kane said. “The few who saw the scuffle backed off when they were told it was Guard’s business.”

A low laugh started up, and Jared looked to Jeff, the man’s shoulders were hunched and shaking, and as his laugh grew louder, he flung his head back and howled into the night. Jensen just let him laugh, his face impassive. 

“What’s the matter, Jenny-boy?” Jeff said when he’d finally grown silent. “Afraid your men will think you weak if they find out you’ve had a traitor beside you for years and couldn’t tell the difference?”

“Hardly,” Jensen said. “I’m concerned about the lynch mob that would crop up when they learn they’ve been betrayed. You see,” he said, stepping closer to Jeff. He squatted just out of reach, but at eye level. “I don’t want them to kill you. I want that honor myself.”

Jeff cracked a grin, his teeth a streak of white in the moon light. “Go ahead,” he said. “Kill me. You’ll lose every single one of them.” He snorted. “You think they follow you? A spoiled _boy_? A pervert who only holds the throne because the Northern Council was too afraid of your father to stand up to him when he name you successor? No,” Jeff said. “They follow me. _I’m_ their captain.”

Jensen nodded. “Their captain who had no trouble leading them to the slaughter in a week’s time. How honorable.” 

He stood, and looked down at Jeff. “I am sorry to have to do this,” Jensen said. He opened his mouth to say something more, hesitated, turned his face away. “I’d thought of you like a father.” And he hid it well, but Jared saw how much this pained the king, saw it in the twist of his mouth, and in his thumb’s nervous rubbing against the handle of his sword. 

Jensen nodded at Kane, and he and another man grabbed Jeff by the shoulders and shoved him forward into a bow, his body parallel with the ground. Jensen drew his blade and moved to stand beside them. 

“Wait,” Jeff said. “Wait.”

“What is it?” Jensen said.

“You owe me a debt, boy. I’m the reason your grasswalker is still alive.”

“You left him to slavery.”

“They wanted to kill him,” Jeff said, twisting his head to try to catch Jensen’s eyes and grunting when the soldiers held him firm. “Even Jed wanted him killed. I took him and left him in a slave market before they could do the job.” 

“Why would you do that?” Jared said.

Jensen looked at him; he seemed surprised Jared was there. Jared ignored him and knelt in front of Jeff. 

“Why would you do that?” he said again.

“None of this is your fault, kid,” Jeff said. And it was hard to tell in the light, but he seemed honestly regretful. “You didn’t deserve to die for a conflict that happened when you were still sucking at your mom’s tit.”

Jared nodded. He stood and backed away, confused and hurt. 

“Jensen?” he said. 

“I can’t, Jared,” Jensen said. “I can’t take the risk that he might escape.”

Jared nodded, swallowing the ache in his throat.

Without another word, Jensen held the blade above his head then brought it down against Jeff’s neck, a clean cut, the head severed in one blow. Jared flinched at the noise, at the dull thud of the blade’s tip burying itself in the frozen dirt, and clenched his eyes shut. When he opened them again, the men were dragging the body away, and Jensen was telling Kane to take it out in the fields and leave it for the vultures. 

The king turned back to Jared, and Jared pulled in a shaky breath. 

“I wish you hadn’t seen that,” Jensen said after a moment’s silence. “I thought you’d stayed in the tent.”

Jared merely shook his head. “I’ve seen this before,” Jared said. He cleared his throat to remove the rasp from his voice. “It didn’t happen often, but if it was necessary, my father always dealt the blow.” 

“Come,” Jensen said. “You should sleep.” 

Jared nodded and followed Jensen into the tent.

***

The week ahead was hectic, a blur of men readying themselves for battle. Jensen was moody after executing Jeff, and he refused to discuss it further than saying “he was a traitor; he died a traitor’s death.”

Jensen continued to spar with Jared; when he could not, Kane did, and slowly Jared was proving to the king that he could fight. Jensen still was not happy with Jared’s insistence, but he seemed to understand it. 

When Jared was not training and Jensen did not have need of him, he followed Marta around the camp. He spoke with some of the soldiers, glad he’d learned a good deal of the Northern language. The men seemed to respect him, bowing their heads as he passed or when he greeted them. It baffled him at first until Marta put her hands behind her ears and wiggled her fingers, grunting “crown” at him. He touched the cuffs, running his finger tips along the points of the delicate wings. 

Marta pulled one of his hands to her, pointed to him, then traced into his palm, “P-R-I-N-C.” Then she smiled.

Jared pulled his hand away and tried to return the smile, but he had a difficult time wrapping his head around the concept of himself as royalty. As a prince. 

At night Jared and Jensen fucked, and Jared was glad of it, glad to have Jensen back, glad to actually have the time to get to know his husband, but he was also glad of the outlet. Because as the days passed, as Joshua arrived with more men from the East, as plans were solidified and Jared learned to take the sword from even Jensen’s hand, Jared began to feel a nervousness growing inside of him. He felt high off adrenalin, each new thought about the coming battle making him first shaky then energized. He took to talking so much that Jensen would kiss him just to shut him up. They fucked whenever they could spare the time, in the little clearing behind the tent, quickly between council meetings, Jensen holding him down in the grass and covering Jared’s mouth to silence his cries. Fucking Jensen was the only thing that could truly calm him during that week. 

When they finally set off, it took only a day to get to Max’s body, travel by horseback much quicker than the slow pace Jared and Max had fallen into. Jared, riding beside Jensen at the front of the mass of men, noticed the spot immediately, a gap in the long grasses where the weight of Max’s body held them down. 

“Jensen,” Jared called, and pulled his horse to a stop. A halt was called, and Jared heard it echoed as the command travelled through the men. 

Jensen and Jared both dismounted, and Jared jerked his chin in the direction of the body. 

“Sire?” Kane called, riding up beside him.

“We’ll camp here for the night,” Jensen said, not removing his eyes from the distance. “Settle the men, then gather a few to help build a pyre. I’d like privacy for now.”

“Yes, sire,” Chris said. He turned on his horse, shouting “[Asezati tabara]()!” and Jared again heard the command echo through the group. 

“Do you want me to stay here?” he said to Jensen, his voice whisper quiet. 

“No,” Jensen said. 

His face was a blank mask, his jaw set. As he started to walk toward the body, Jared reached out and grabbed his hand. Jensen looked back at him.

“You aren’t alone in this, my husband,” Jared said. 

Jensen’s expression didn’t change, but he gripped Jared’s hand a little tighter, even if only for an instant. 

Jared could smell the stink of the body as they drew near, their bodies making paths through the waves of long grass. When they arrived, Jared was glad to see his covering had held up, stones still in a neat line along the edges of the fabric. 

Jensen dropped to his knees as if he’d been shot. His hands shook as he ran them across the fabric. 

“You did well,” Jensen said. “Thank you. For caring enough for him to do this.”

“He was a good friend,” Jared said. He wiped a tear from his cheek and turned his face away.

“You deserved better than this,” Jensen said, and Jared shut his eyes, listening to the king talking to Max’s body, murmuring apologies and nonsense affection, letting the noise of it lull him until he had a grip on his emotions, and he could turn back to the king, run his hand through the short, bristled hair at the nape of the king’s neck. 

It wasn’t until the king pulled back the covering to reveal Max’s body that he cried. He touched Max’s shorn scalp, his face dark, twisting in grief. Then he choked out a sob, leaned forward and pressed his head to Max’s chest, one hand caressing what was left of Max’s hair, the other tangled in his shirt. Jared knelt beside him, pressed his palm to the king’s back. 

Jensen bathed the body, and Jared and Kane helped him wrap it. Max was heavy in death, but the king insisted on laying his body on the funeral pyre himself. They lit the pyre, the men all crowding in to see. After a time, most of them wandered off to bed down; though it was still early, they had a long way to travel yet and would need their rest.

Jensen and Jared just sat together in the long grasses, and they spent the night like that, watching the fire burn. 

 

Part VI

After days of riding, they finally neared the citadel. Jensen had many men, but they had no reliable account of the size of army that guarded the citadel, and Jared grew increasingly nervous for the men he had come to know. Jensen assured Jared there was a good chance they would win in battle. Their army only had to fight to provide a distraction so that a small group could sneak into the castle, and at the very least, they were more than capable of that. 

About a mile from the capital, Jensen, Jared, Kane, and the rest of the king’s guard split off from the group, leaving Joshua and his generals to lead the army. Jensen rode them hard and fast, and the walls surrounding the capital appeared soon enough. Jared saw no one, just as Jensen had said. As far as the Council knew, there was no way to enter the capital from this angle, and they’d left it unguarded in favor of putting their army at the capital wall’s weakest points. 

Jensen slowed his horse, and the king’s guard stood watch, hands at their swords, ready to fight if they needed. It took Jensen some time, but he eventually found what he was looking for, and he looked up at his men with a grin. 

“Kane,” he said. “Give me your axe.”

Kane pulled it from his back and tossed it to the king, who caught it easily. He knelt beside the wall and began to dig with the axe’s blade. A stone appeared in the hole the king dug, and the king twisted at it, and suddenly a trap door appeared in the earth, opening the way to a set of rough stone steps leading down into a black tunnel. 

“Fuck me,” Jared said. “It was all but invisible.” 

“My great-great-grandfather had the best engineers work to build safe passages to and from the castle,” Jensen said. “Joshua told me he had them killed when they were finished so that they couldn’t share the family’s secrets.”

“The Ackles have a bloody history,” Jared said.

“The _kingdom_ has a bloody history,” Jensen said. 

The men descended into the hole. They pulled their horses in with them so that they would not be spotted, then left them at the entrance. Then they each lit a torch, the fire hot in such a close space, and they carried on.

It took hours to make it through the tunnel. The battle at the capital’s walls would already be well under way, and the attention of the castle guards would be with the battle. If not, once they reached the castle, they would fight to take it back. 

When they reached the end of the tunnel, Kane insisted he go first. “There could be someone waiting,” he said to Jensen. “You’re no use to us dead.”

Jensen nodded his agreement, though Jared could tell he wasn’t happy. 

The tunnel opened into the lowest part of the citadel, beneath even the dungeons. There was no one in the hall, and the men all climbed out, gasping at the fresh air. The men were all intimately familiar with the castle once inside, and before they’d left camp, they’d devised a strategy. They planned to separate, sneak through the castle and take down one guard after another. If they ran into a member of the council, they would be killed. Then they would all make their way toward the great hall where the council was expected to be. 

Once the men separated, Jared and Jensen were left alone. 

“Just you and me,” Jared said. 

Jensen grinned at him.

“You like this, don’t you?” Jared said, surprised. 

“I was raised in battle,” Jensen said. “I am more comfortable fighting then acting as king.”

“When I met you, I thought of you as the warrior king,” Jared said. “That’s what you were called by my people.”

“Does it bother you?” 

Jared shook his head. “I’d like to see it today.” 

Jensen reached out to grab Jared by the nape of his neck, pull him close. He pressed their foreheads together. “I would love nothing more than to give you that,” he said.

He pushed himself away, then, and set off into the castle. Jared followed. 

Jensen took down three guards before they ran into trouble. Somewhere in the castle, one of the men had been discovered, and the guards had begun to search for invaders. They turned a corner and found themselves faced with three men, swords drawn. 

“Jared. Stay behind me,” the king ordered. 

Jared kept his sword drawn, but fell back a step. 

“Weapons down,” one of the guards said.

“Michael,” Jensen said. “I am your king. Think what it is you’re doing. Who it is you are threatening.”

“I am only following orders,” the man said.

“Whose orders? The council’s? Jed Ackles’s?” Jensen said. “Have I so quickly lost your loyalty?”

The man faltered, his sword lowering slightly, but one of the other guards spoke up. “Enough,” he said. “Lower your weapons or we attack.”

“Then I guess you attack,” Jensen said. 

The men rushed them, and Jared had no choice but to go on the defense. Two of the men went for Jensen, but Michael, seemingly unable to bring himself to fight his king, turned to Jared. 

Jared fought hard, his muscles screaming from the weight of his sword, from his efforts to hold off the guard’s blows. He willed himself to not turn his eyes to Jensen, though he desperately wanted to make sure he wasn’t hurt. The guard was bigger than Jared, and Jared, hyper-focused on the man’s movements, noticed that he was tiring quickly. The guard struck out with his sword, and Jared dodged it, crying out as it sliced into his bicep. But he didn’t hesitate; while the man was distracted by his hit, Jared thrust his own sword out, plunging it into the man’s stomach. 

He felt queasy at his first kill, and pulled the sword from the man’s body, lurching backwards, watching as the man covered his gut with his hands and fell to his knees. Jared shook himself and was about to turn to help Jensen when he was suddenly grabbed from behind, a gloved hand covering his mouth and pulling him from his feet into a dark corridor. The man grabbed Jared’s wrist, twisting it almost to breaking until Jared dropped his sword. He struggled, but the man who had him was stronger, and Jared could smell an oil on the glove covering his mouth and nose. His eyes began to droop, his muscles going lax one by one, and suddenly his thoughts were shrouded in darkness.

***

When Jared woke, he was in a sprawl, face down on a stone floor. His head ached fiercely, and his mouth felt as dry as if he’d made a meal of sand. He pushed himself up onto his arms, letting slip a slight groan. 

“Finally awake,” a voice said, and Jared tried not to flinch, though the noise of it felt like an arrow to his skull. “Help him.”

To men stepped up and grabbed Jared by the arms; they pulled him up until he was kneeling, his shoulders bent, and Jared shoved at them until they released his arms, then he slowly raised his head to see who’d been speaking. His eyes widened when he saw his father, lounging like a pampered house cat on Jensen’s throne. Jared was in the great hall, and, as he looked around, he realized he was surrounded by the majority of the Northern Council. 

“By now, you likely know who I am,” Jared’s father said, calling Jared’s eyes back to him.

“Father,” Jared said, his voice a croak. 

“I’m not your father, boy,” he said. 

Jared nodded his head, trying to get his bearings. He didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious. Whatever they’d drugged him with was strong, and he felt as if he were trying to make his way through a fog. “You’re Jed Ackles,” he said, when he found his voice. 

“I am.”

Jared looked around at the many eyes of the council. He turned back to his father. “But you raised me,” he said, and try though he might, he couldn’t keep the pleading from his voice. He’d come to the citadel fully intending to kill the man now sitting before him, but there were still sixteen years between them, and that wasn’t something Jared could easily forget. 

“I did,” Jed Ackles said. “Which is why you have an option here. I am not happy you let that _perversion_ of a king touch you, but I realize, too, that you had little choice in the matter. You are not my blood, but I raised you as if you were. Because of that, you have a place at my side.”

Jared dropped his head, clenched his hands against his knees. 

“Perhaps we should let the boy rest,” someone said. “He has had a difficult day, and he is young.”

Jared whipped his head toward the man who was speaking. He knew Duke Winchester’s voice intimately. 

“Hello, Jared,” Winchester said. 

“He does not deserve rest,” another man said. “He is lucky we are letting him live. If he needs time to think over the offer, then he should not be offered such a reprieve in the first place.” 

“Maybe he’s too in love with Jenny-boy,” another said. “Maybe it’s clouding his judgment.”

Jared found the strength to stand at the mention of Jensen’s name. He opened his mouth to tell the man he had no right to speak of his king in such a manner, but he was interrupted. 

“Bring the pervert king in,” Jed Ackles said. “Show my _son_ what has become of him. Perhaps that will convince him of the right person to whom he should gift his loyalty.” 

Jensen was brought in by two guards. He’d been stripped of most of his clothes, only his trousers left, bloody and ripped at the knees, and he was in chains, a thick iron collar around his neck chained to thick cuffs at his wrists. He was shoved onto his knees in the center of the hall, but he held his head high. He was bruised badly, his lip split, bleeding freely, one eye swollen almost completely shut, and there were stripes across his chest and shoulders, bruised to black as if he’d been caned. 

“What do you think of your king now?” Jed said. 

“Jensen,” Jared said. He knelt before him, held his face in his hands until Jensen looked at him. “Gods, what have they done to you?”

Before Jensen could speak, Jared was grabbed and hauled away. 

“Tell him, nephew,” Jed said, turning to Jensen. “Who is the true king?”

“I am,” Jensen said, his voice shattered but there. Then he grinned, angry, almost feral, his teeth bloody with it, wide enough his split lip began to bleed. The same grin that made people call him warrior, that made people fear him. 

Jed literally roared in fury. He stood from the throne and walked to Jensen, grabbed the collar and pulled him up until Jensen was grasping at the iron and struggling to gain his feet, until they were face to face. 

“You _will_ declare me as the true king,” Jed said. “I will _break_ you. You will kneel willingly beside me and tell all of these idiot people in the capital who love you that I am the true king. That they will answer to _my_ command.”

He let go of Jensen’s collar, and Jensen dropped to the floor, though he immediately pulled himself upright; shaky, but upright. 

“You can’t do this,” Jared said, turning to Jed. “Please.”

“Don’t worry, boy,” Jed said. “I have no plans to kill my wayward nephew. That’s not quite a fitting enough punishment. He needs to live in misery. Below his station. The way I’ve lived for the past sixteen years. Hell, maybe after I break him, if you’re a good boy, Jared, I’ll give him to you as a toy. Maybe you’d like that, hmm?”

Jed put his hand on Jared’s shoulder, squeezed it in a mockery of affection. 

“Of course,” he said, and put his mouth next to Jared’s ear. “If we go that route, he’ll have to lose a little something before he can share your bed.” 

When Jed pulled away to grin into Jared’s face, Jared smiled right back. Then he plunged the dagger that had been strapped to his arm straight through his father’s throat. 

“I guess you underestimated me,” he whispered into Jed Ackles red face, his lips blood spattered, his eyes bulging. “You didn’t even bother to check for weapons on my person.”

He shoved the man away, the dagger sliding wetly from his throat. 

“What have you done, boy?” one of the councilmen asked. He stepped up to the body, looked from it to Jared. 

Jared held his dagger at the ready, backing up to stand in front of Jensen. “Don’t come any closer,” he said.

“And what is it you plan to do?” another councilman said. “Take out ten men with one dagger?”

“He has more than one dagger.”

Jared looked past the council, and Kane and Joshua stood in the entrance to the hall, an army at their backs. Soldiers moved quickly through the room, disarming the councilmen. 

Jared sheathed his dagger and turned to kneel before Jensen. “Keys!” he shouted. “Somebody bring me the fucking keys, already.”

Joshua knelt beside them, turned Jensen’s face toward his. “Brother,” he said. 

“I’m fine, Joshua,” Jensen said. “Take care of your men.”

“They are fine,” Joshua said. “They have subdued the Council’s army. Hell, many of the soldiers turned and fought on our side once they learned you had returned.”

Kane handed Jared a set of keys, and he made quick work of removing the irons from Jensen’s neck and hands. Together, Jared and Joshua helped Jensen to his feet.

“I can stand,” Jensen said, and they let him go, though Jared stayed close. “Kane, take the councilmen to the dungeons. I have nice, cozy cells waiting for them.”

“You should execute them all,” Joshua said. 

“Yes,” Jensen said. “But they will be tried first.”

“Jens—” Joshua began.

“It is not up for discussion,” Jensen said. 

“Of course,” Joshua said. He motioned for his soldiers to follow with their charges. 

Jensen turned to Kane. “I want soldiers guarding every inch of the wall as well as soldiers set throughout the city. Any man who’s not wounded.”

“Yes, sire,” Kane said. He turned and walked out of the hall.

Jared and Jensen were alone. Jensen turned to Jared, then staggered, and Jared caught him, holding up his weight. 

He ran his hand through Jensen’s hair, kissed the corner of his lip where there was no bruise. “You need to rest,” Jared said. 

“I’ll rest when my men rest,” Jensen said. 

“No,” Jared said. “You’ll pass out on the floor well before that can happen.”

Jensen didn’t respond, he was looking past Jared to his uncle’s body.

“I’m sorry you had to do that,” Jensen said.

“Don’t be,” Jared said. “It had to be done.”

Jensen nodded. 

“Do you think my mother and sister are in the castle?” Jared said. “Or do you think he left them behind?”

“I don’t know. But we’ll make sure they’re safe,” Jensen said. 

Jared nodded, looked around the hall. 

“So I guess it’s just you and me now, huh?” he said. 

“Would that…” Jensen started. “Would that displease you?”

“No,” Jared said. “Nothing would please me more.”

 

Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> Initially inspired by Game of Thrones, though you wouldn't notice it at all. A few terms - like "kingsroad" and "the common tongue" are taken straight from the show, though, so I feel the need to credit. 
> 
>  
> 
> Author's notes: First, I made it through my first big bang! OMG. *wipes sweat from brow* There were times when I honestly did not think I would finish this fic for many many reasons that I won't get into here, but I DID finish, and that is thanks to many wonderful people:
> 
> First, let me thank my wonderful beta candygramme. She has been absolutely fantastic and helped me every time I was stuck (which was a lot) and was awesome enough to tell me when a choice I made for the plot was not at all working and brave enough to smack me over the head when I tried to end the fic about 10,000 words before it was actually over. I'm really glad to have met her. ♥ 
> 
> Then of course there's mythicbeast who went above and beyond what I expected with her lovely, fantastic art. Go look at it. Now. Seriously. I feel so ridiculously lucky that she chose my fic. All of the costumes that I've described here would not be described near as well had it not been for her research. When she got my draft, it was basically things like, "And Jared was wearing a shirt!" It's because of her that that's no longer the case. Anyway, I hope I've done a good job of describing everything with my prose, but her art really brings the story to life. 
> 
> Also, I want to say a quick thank you to ramona4jake for helping me with the Romanian you see in the fic. It's probably not perfect because she did a lot of translating without context, but that's what I get for randomly picking Romanian to represent the Northern language. *facepalm* She was a lovely friend and cheerleader. ♥
> 
> And to my fantastic cheerleaders - big_heart_june, equally_dour, mariez65, and casey28 - Honestly, if it weren't for these girls, you would not be seeing this fic. *hugs them tight*
> 
> And finally, thank you so much to wendy and thehighwaywoman for hosting spn_j2_bigbang. Big bang summer is my favorite time of year. :D
> 
> *A note about the warnings: The warnings make this fic seem like this is totally cracked out dark fic, but I don't think it is; at least, that wasn't my intention. I do want to say that I labeled this as non-con because, though I think a case can definitely be made that Jared wants to sleep with Jensen, I think he ultimately believes that even if he didn't want to, he wouldn't have a choice in the matter. That makes this non-con in my book. When I very first started writing this, it was based on the Dani/Kahl Drogo wedding night from Game of Thrones, and though it has strayed very far from that initial premise, the consent issues are similar.


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